


Petit Soleil

by twentyninne



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst, Drama & Romance, Multi, NHL RPF, Pittsburgh Penguins, Women in the NHL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-02
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2019-08-14 17:12:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 124,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16496792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twentyninne/pseuds/twentyninne
Summary: After a messy divorce with the Canucks, the NHL's first female player is hoping for a brand new start in Pittsburgh. Kristen is immediately showered with friendship and fame, but it's not enough to escape the demons that have followed her.





	1. Under Pressure

Kristen was on her way to Pittsburgh. The sentence felt weird in her brain, the words not adding up. Although, not much had been adding up these past few months.

The trade had seemingly come out of nowhere, a phone call and a plane ticket within the week, and suddenly she was selling her shitty little house and on her way to somewhere else. She had always known that things in Vancouver would be temporary but was just getting used to the gloomy weather and constant partying that had become her lifestyle.

Sighing, Kristen put down her book. Anxiety had been forming in her chest for the whole flight; she had even caught herself praying that the plane might crash, that the stress of a new city wouldn’t even matter because she’d be blown to bits anyway. It wasn’t like she hadn’t gone through this before, but this felt so much different.

She thought back to when she was fresh out of high school, the scouting agent at one of her women’s minor league games back in her home town of BC pulling her aside and giving her his card. He said he wanted to discuss higher level hockey for her, said she was ‘good enough to play with the boys’. It seemed like a joke at first. Kristen was five foot four, barely 110 pounds, and, although her playing was better than most on the women’s team, she would get slaughtered by the guys in the WHL. But as time went on, she was convinced by that agent to talk to the coaches, to go to a practice, and eventually play a regular season game. And she wasn’t slaughtered.

It was still hard, however. That first practice was no contact. The guys on the team eyed her warily, put most of their effort into not hitting her, and even apologized when they would accidently nudge her. Her first game was no different. By that point every fan, coach, and player knew about the first girl in the league. The press was everywhere, the fans would talk shit about her online. By the time she stepped onto the ice, she was a pariah, and no one even looked at her. Not to mention the insane lack of ice time, she had barely gotten twenty seconds before she was pulled. Everyone recognized that her being there was a distraction to the other players. Not to mention the issues with the dressing rooms. Half of the time she changed in the referee room before they got to the arena, her elbows constantly hitting the walls of the impossibly small space. Eventually, the owners did figure out a new set up for her, using the excuse that it could be used as a storage closet after she left.

The first two months were full of both rumours and complete silence. There was no sense of team with her involved, and many people called it the worst mistake the Rockets could have ever made. They weren’t necessarily losing games, but the lack of communication between Kristen and everyone else was enough to make her head spin. However, it had eventually gotten easier. A couple of guys put effort in to get to know her, which led to team dinners that included her during away games. And more ice time, as her line mates were now talking to her. The rumours stopped. She was finally able to show what she could do, why she had been scouted for this team, how she was different. It was almost magical. She could feel her potential truly showing, and she was actually happy. And making money. Not great money, but still more than the whole zero dollars she was getting from the women’s league. The team made it to the playoffs, although they were scratched in the second round, but it gave Kristen a purpose she had never had. She had friends, found a girlfriend through one of the guys on the team, and was able to move out of her parents’ home into an actual apartment. It was amazing.

Then Vancouver happened.

It was good in the beginning, great even. Tanner Glass and Kevin Bieksa became close companions to Kristen on the first day of them meeting. Honestly, all the guys had been great, reacting so much better than how the Rockets had. It was easier for people to accept a female in the NHL after her being on a minor league team and proving her worth. There were still whispers of concern within the league, afraid that a men’s team would soon be overflowing with vaginas, but the attention that Kristen had brought to female hockey players had made the women’s league popular. Women were getting paid a decent wage to play hockey, and people other than friends and family attended the games. However, the team was not doing well by the time Kristen got there. That got to her way more than she had realized at the time. Practices were never fun, no one was happy or joking. The press blamed her for the losses, although that had been happening even before she had gotten there. Her friendships were the only things that had kept her sane. That and the partying. And the girls. And the guys.

She used the fact that she was well-known to her advantage (aka avoiding a lot of legal trouble by signing pictures for dirty cops). The drinks were free, the drugs were free, and admirers came flocking to her every night, no matter if they won or lost.

Her promiscuity was never a huge issue for the team, considering how many of the guys had new girls in their bed every night as well. It became a habit for her and the bachelors to tell stories about how the rest of their nights had gone after they all left the club, to laugh over the fact that none of them remembered their girls’ names. It only started to become an issue when men became involved.

And by men, she meant one man.

A married man.

A married man on her team.

And the yelling and screaming as his wife stormed into the dressing room, the throwing of sticks and gloves and, scarily enough, skates, as she threatened Kristen’s life and career. How the guys had had to pull her away as her husband stood in the middle of the room, staring blank-faced at the door. Kristen had sat on the floor, crumpled into a ball, trying to ignore the looks of the coaches. She knew she was done.

The drugs got heavier, the drinking got more regular. She was scratched from the roster before the end of the regular season and had to sit back and watch as the team somehow made it all the way to the Stanley Cup final, just to lose it all. And then she really was done.

Nobody else wanted her, so she spent the next season sitting in a rehab and talking about her feelings. She learned how to play golf and laugh at the stereotype. Then, once again, she was in a women’s league, and although it was popular, the games felt less competitive and she allowed herself to love hockey again.

Then she received a phone call from someone who sounded important. She sold her house, packed up her things, and got on a plane to Pittsburgh.

Everything came back to her as she sat on that flight. She was only twenty-two and felt like she had already experienced everything in the world and more.

0—0—0

The airport was busy enough that she wasn’t recognized, and Kristen happily made her way outside to have a cigarette. She’d picked up the habit in Vancouver and, against the warning of her therapist and trainer, kept smoking anyway. If she had to be completely sober, she was allowed to compromise her lung capacity. Although, she’d probably have to quit before she started playing. Oh well.

Lighting up, she looked around for her ride. She’d received a text from her agent saying that a car would be coming for her. Probably an intern, which would explain them being late. It was surprisingly sunny and warm outside, so Kristen didn’t mind the wait, pulling her jacket down past her shoulders, allowing her tank top to show and her shoulders to get some much-needed sun. Vancouver had its nice days, but it hadn’t been sunny for awhile.

It was about half an hour later before a pair of shoes were in front of her. She looked up quickly, squinting even with her sunglasses on against the sun.

“Kristen?”

She watched the silhouette glance at the two cigarette butts beside her before kneeling to her eye-level. “Sorry I’m late, traffic’s crazy. Probably all of the sun.” There was a hint of a French accent in his voice.

Kristen smiled and shrugged. “That’s life. Kristen Stewart. Nice to meet you.” She held her hand out, and the man shook it, a smile spreading on his face as well.

“Max Talbot.”

The face had looked familiar, and it only took a moment for her to realize that she had played against him in Vancouver. “They got you to pick me up? Not like, an intern or something?”

Max helped her up, grabbing her bags even after she told him it was okay. He laughed for awhile at the intern comment, long enough that they had gotten to the car by the time he stopped.

“I didn’t know I was that funny.” Kristen smirked.

“I don’t know how they do things in Vancouver, but we pick up our own here. Be happy you didn’t get Sid.” He unlocked the car, motioning for her to climb in as he put her bags away and getting behind the wheel. The Vancouver comment made her smirk, and the two made small talk as they slowly moved through traffic.

Most of the conversation centered around the plane ride and the out of character weather, but Kristen was fine with it, mostly trying to keep the feeling of anxious nausea she had suddenly developed at ease. It was finally hitting her that she was in Pittsburgh. No house, no friends (other than Max, if you could call him that in such a short amount of time), and no idea how she was going to play NHL hockey again. Max definitely noticed her sudden silence, but thankfully didn’t comment on it. Instead, he turned the radio up a bit higher, humming along to a song.

It was awhile before he spoke again. “So, the big guys have set you up with a hotel room until you can find somewhere else. It’s very nice, stayed there myself.” He looked her way, smiling. “Got a pool, great food, walk to pretty much everywhere.”

Kristen had not received this treatment in Vancouver. The hotel hadn’t been shitty, but very out of the way and uncomfortable. Hopefully this place would feel homey enough until the property hunt was over. “Wow, that’s awesome. Basically have a pool in my house.”

Max grinned again, even though the joke was shitty. His smile was contagious, to the point where Kristen found herself smiling along with him, the anxiety going away.

“So, one serious thing.” He glanced at her before looking back at the road, making a left turn and barely missing a pedestrian. “They told me to say that press will be crazy for awhile. Lots of pictures for a long time. So, they want to talk to you about that when you go in tomorrow.”

Kristen nodded. “I kind of expected that. I mean, I was gone for awhile. A lot of people probably thought I was dead.”

“That probably made some people very happy.” Max was back to grinning, closing the gap between them to nudge her with his elbow.

She could only assume he was referring to the very public fight between her and… His… wife. Their divorce had been messy, and it was impossible for Kristen to leave the house without being bombarded by people telling her how badly she had fucked up the team. It had been obvious through the news articles about the situation that His wife wanted nothing more than to see her six feet underground.

“Yeah well, you know. Can’t please them all.” She tried to keep the mood as light as possible. “Holy shit, is that it?” Max was pulled in to the fanciest hotel she had ever seen.

“Thought you’d like it.” This was the first time he looked directly in her eyes with that grin on his face, and Kristen felt her stomach jump. It was a purely platonic feeling, but it still felt like there was sunshine inside of her.

The two pulled her bags out of the car, and Kristen offered Max to go for a coffee to thank him for the ride.

“I would say yes, but there’s some errands I have to do. But I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, yes?”

She nodded, pulling her backpack strap nervously. She had somehow forgotten about the practice. Or at least, pushed it out of her mind.

“Hey, don’t be nervous. I’ve seen you play, you’ll do great.” Another smile to calm her nerves.

“Well, thank you again for the ride. Way better than a taxi.” Kristen allowed herself to smile. “And I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, yes. I’m happy you’re here, I think you’ll love it. Oh, you do have a nickname, yeah?”

Kristen sighed jokingly. She had never been super fond of the nickname that she had carried with her since she was nineteen. “They call me Stew, but if you come up with something better, I’ll love you forever.”

“I’ll think on it, just for you, mademoiselle.” He laughed, pulling his beanie off his head and swinging it around his body in a mock bow.

Aware of the amount of space they had been taking up while talking on the sidewalk, the two parted ways with a casual nod and the promise of both showing up early the next morning to have breakfast together. Kristen watched him drive away before turning towards the door of the hotel.

Time for a nap.


	2. Natural's Not in It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: anything in italics will in another language, generally french or russian. also i guess this is set in '09, although gameplay, schedules, rosters, etc aren't accurate to that season. thanks guys, hope you enjoy!

The sound of her alarm prompted Kristen to get up at five in the morning. It was a new feeling for her, having to wake up with a purpose. It wasn’t a terrible thing, to be needed somewhere again.

Aware that all eyes would be on her, she tried to choose some clothes that wouldn’t make her look like a complete slob. Her wardrobe had always been something discussed within the Canucks, a debate on if she would have to wear dresses in order to be equal with the men and their suits, or if a nice pair of jeans and a shirt would suffice. She had quickly decided that she was going to do what she wanted. She wasn’t too proud of how she had started looking close to her end in Vancouver, however.

After picking out a pair of jeans and a shirt that weren’t too fancy but also weren’t too slobby, she threw on her leather jacket and some sneakers, as well as a hat to cover her horrific hair. She knew she would be just putting it in a low ponytail once she got there anyway, so she hadn’t bothered to brush it. With a pair of sunglasses to cover her makeup-less face, she was good to go.

The cab drive to the Consol Center was full of anxiety once again, and Kristen occupied herself by picking at a thread sticking out of her seat. The team had already received most of her gear thanks to Max dropping them off for her during his errands, so she had packed decently light, apart from some freshly washed Under Armor and extra things to keep in her locker.

The ride went by both too fast and too slow, and soon she was walking through the players’ entrance, holding her breath. Sensing the lack of other players, she pulled out her phone and found Max’s name in her contacts. She had put the sunshine emoji beside his name, which made her smile as she typed.

**Hey man, it’s Kristen. still coming early? I’m all alone and need some laughs hahah**

It took her awhile to hit send, worrying that it would come across too bitchy. But she had bigger things to worry about, such as how to actually get to the locker room. The arena was bigger than she remembered from her last visit, although that had been a year ago and she was spaced out of her mind during that time.

Her thoughts wandered back to that game, mostly how little she remembered of it. They had lost, as usual, and Kristen had gotten about twelve seconds of ice before being kicked out for something that she had erased from her memory. It was strange to look at that game through a fresh set of eyes. As a teenager she had never imagined that she would forget games, that nights would blur together while she took advantage of the opportunity she had been given. She had been told by numerous guys after late nights that everything was worth it because they were playing in the NHL, they were living the dream. It was hard to remember that after the many setbacks numerous players would face during their careers. It was hard to remember that one day it would all be over, and that they would want something positive to look back on.

While thinking about everything, Kristen found her way to the locker room, pulling open the door slowly as she stepped inside. It was slightly bigger than what they had had in Vancouver, and the warm, bright colours made it feel like home right away. It didn’t take her long to see the tag above one of the stalls that read “Stewart, #91”. The sign almost brought tears to her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. Her growling stomach needed attention.

The lounge was just as homey as the locker room, and the fruit salad she had found in the fridge was the perfect thing for her stomach. There was a part of her that was regretting not having a morning smoke, but the thought of her burning lungs later in the day stopped her from running outside quickly.

Eventually, some more guys came into the lounge, introducing themselves. Jordan Staal, Matt Cooke (who she had had a brief fight with in the Penguins/Canucks game), and Ben Lovejoy. The three laughed off Max’s invitation to an early breakfast, saying that he was never there early. Kristen hadn’t realized how slightly hurt she’d been from Max ignoring her and was happy to hear that it had happened to all the guys at some point. More guys came in, most notably Letang, Malkin, and Crosby, who gave her a quick nod and smile before heading towards the locker room.

Kristen had been invited to change with the guys. She was glad that the team could recognize that they were all adults here, and that she had seen enough dicks in her life to not get shocked by a couple more. However, there were the occasional moments where she noticed some newer guys hiding themselves a little more than the core members.

“A little shy there, Rusty?” Cooke smirked, glancing at Kristen before turning back to the kid.

She smiled at the two of them. “Trust me, I’ve seen enough naked guys in my lifetime. Probably the reason I’m 90 percent gay, now that I think of it. So, don’t worry, I’m not looking.”

Rusty pretended to be offended by the comment, but her voice had released some of the tension in the room.

As the guys continued their chirping and discussions about grabbing a drink that night after the game, Sidney made his way over to Kristen’s stall, smiling politely.

“Hey, Captain.” She pulled on her practice jersey and fixed her hair before sitting down to look up at him. After only seeing him while they were playing against each other, it was strange to see him looking at her the way that he was. “What’s up?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re finding everything okay so far. And let you know that we’re happy to have you.” Another smile that almost melted her heart. What was with these guys? Their kindness was going to kill her.

“Yeah, totally. I’m enjoying the east coast lifestyle so far. Other than the time change, that’s been a bitch.”

He laughed, nodding his head in understanding. “It is hard, for sure.” He paused, looking around the room. “Have you met Schultzy yet? He’s a BC boy, you two will probably have a lot to talk about.”

As soon as he mentioned the other man’s name, Max and Justin Schultz entered, and Max started apologizing profusely for being late to breakfast as soon as he saw Kristen. She was happy to find that Justin’s stall was beside hers. Maybe she’d make another friend.

“Schultzy, this is Kristen.” Sidney motioned towards her.

Justin nodded toward her with a small smile. “Got something else you wanna be called?”

“Stew.” Max answered for her, an evil grin on his face. Kristen flipped him off before turning back to Justin.

“Not a huge fan of that one, though.”

Justin nodded once again. “I’ll think of something for ya.”

The two discussed their hometown, complaining about the heat in the summer and the kind of people that lived there. Max scoffed at their complaints, saying that he loved the city and they were both crazy. More guys showed up as they talked, and she heard some aggressive French from the other side of the room.

She hadn’t noticed the goalie across from her when he had come in, but his bantering with Letang soon took over, the volume of their conversation grabbing everyone’s attention. She tried her best not to stare at them, however; memories of Vancouver were coming back to her. Some guys had been picky about who was listening in. Eventually, everyone headed out onto the ice.

The sheer size of the arena was intimidating. Having been away from major league arenas for only a year, Kristen was surprised at the way her stomach dropped as she looked around. Max gave her a tap on the shins with his stick, a silent reminder to breathe.

The drills were fun but fast-paced, more intense than Kristen had been used to with the Canucks and her women’s league team. The Penguins prided themselves on having practices that were just as hard as games, and she could see why. She was soaked in sweat and her muscles were sore within the first twenty minutes. Close to the end of the practice, Dan called a shootout drill that he referred to as 'Moustache Boy'.

“What’s that?” Kristen asked Schultzy, stopping beside him as the other guys lined up by the bench.

“We do it every month. Basically, if you’re the last person to score, you have to grow a moustache for the rest of the month. Very fun.” He motioned towards Cooke, who was currently growing a very comical moustache. “For example…”

“Fuck you, Schultzy, he looks great.” Max laughed.

“You’ll be next, kiddo.” Cooke, who had overheard the whole thing, pretended to glare at the group.

Tanger went first. Kristen watched the goalie twirl around before he took the shot. With a huge grin, Fleury stopped the shot, yelling a healthy amount of profanities as he did it. She found her gaze remaining on him, attracted to the way his smile lit up the arena. If Max was like sunshine in her mind, this guy was like… One of those stars that’s bigger than the sun. She smiled at herself for the shitty comparison, tearing her eyes back to the event.

The most memorable moment was Max missing the net altogether, somehow sending the puck straight to the boards on his right. Fleury laughed.

“Suck it, Talbo!”

“Fuck you!” Max answered back, shaking his head.

Kristen scored on her first shot against the extroverted goalie, hearing a chirp from Max that sounded like something along the lines of Fleury letting in a goal from a girl. She didn’t mind the chirp, even finding herself laughing by the time she sat down on the bench, something that she hadn’t experienced during a practice for a long time.

That month’s Moustache Boy was, in fact, Schultzy. Cooke shaved his moustache off immediately after practice.

0—0—0

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

She had been called into Dan’s office as soon as she was finished getting dressed. Even though she knew what they would be talking about, there must have still been fear on her face.

“Please, sit.” He motioned to the chair across from him. After sitting, he continued. “So, I just want to start off by welcoming you to Pittsburgh. I hope you’re liking the hotel so far.”

“Yes, definitely. Thank you for setting that up.”

Dan smiled. “Hopefully we’ll be able to find you a more permanent residence.”

Her heart skipped a beat at that. Did that mean she would be staying for awhile? Or that he was at least planning for her to be?

“Basically, I just brought you in here to say that we’re all really excited to have you here. There’s no judgements about what happened in Vancouver, what happened there is honestly none of my business. What is my business is how you’re playing. And if you’re anything like how you were out there today, then we’ll get alone just fine.”

“Thank you, so much.” Kristen found the tension in her shoulders relaxing.

“Hey, don’t thank me, just keep doing what you’re doing.” He paused, his face going serious. “You’re here for a reason, Kristen. There’s certain people in the press that will say otherwise but trust me. We believe you’re going to play a huge part in us getting to the playoffs this season.”

“That’s my goal.”

“Speaking of the press, they’re kind of going into a frenzy over this. Just ignore it. Focus on your game. Talk to Jen if you need to. We won’t be playing you tonight, just to give you a chance to get settled and see how we play. But we do want you in against L.A.”

Kristen nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

With that, Dan sent her on her way. She left the office almost skipping with happiness, a weight she hadn’t known was there lifted from her chest. Maybe things would be good here.

0—0—0

“ _If you keep making googly eyes at the new girl she’s gonna think you’re into her_.”

Marc glared up at Max, who had that stupid fucking smirk on his face. “ _What googly eyes?_ ”

“ _Come on, man. You think I can’t see this?_ ” Max mimicked how Marc had apparently looked, complete with a mouth wide open, eyes wide and eyebrows raised. “ _No, you think she can’t see that?_ ”

Marc simply shrugged, although he knew he’d been caught. He’d have to work on that if he wanted things to stay easy in the room. “ _Don’t say anything in front of her, okay?_ ”

Max’s grin got even wider. “ _No promises. I might pop by her room, let her know to watch out for the crazy man over here_.”

“ _I swear to fucking God_ …”

Marc hadn’t planned on chasing his best friend down the hallway, but it was a good distraction from the girl that sat across from him.


	3. The Way You Used to Do

The Pens won against Carolina, 5-2. Kristen spent most of the game talking to Mario, star-struck.

Pascal Dupuis was also in the press box due to a knee injury, and the two made their way down to the locker room. Dan congratulated them on a job well done and left for them to get changed.

“Are you coming tonight?” Duper asked as they stood by the doors of the locker room.

“I wasn’t aware there was a thing to come to.” Kristen picked at her blazer. Having to dress up had been nice compared to the shit she’d worn for so long. It was nice to get some use out of her fancy clothes again.

“Oh!” He looked embarrassed at mentioning it. Kristen tried to give him an encouraging smile. If she wasn’t supposed to be invited, then she wasn’t supposed to be there. She wasn’t about to cross boundaries in her first week here.

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t want to force myself into something that I’m not invited to.” Her smile faltered slightly, but she tried her best not to let herself be disappointed that no one had mentioned it earlier.

“No, no. The guys just texted me about it before the game! Everyone’s invited, we’re just going for some drinks and pool before we have to leave tomorrow.” His eyes drifted towards where Fleury was sitting. “I know there’s some of us that you still haven’t talked to yet that would love for you to come.”

Fleury muttered something in French from his stall, clearly listening in to their conversation.

“Well in that case, you’ll see me there.”

“Hey, she’s coming!” Duper yelled across the room. Sid, Max, and some of the other guys had been joking around in the corner but stopped to flash her wide smiles.

She turned to make a joke about how the group looked like a bunch of gossiping old ladies but found that Duper had already made his way closer to the door with Geno. Not sure where she should go, Kristen stood awkwardly beside Fleury’s stall, trying her hardest not to look as he started buttoning up his dress shirt. Why was it so awkward around him? She had never cared about seeing the guys like this before.

“It’s good that you’re coming tonight.”

The voice beside her was a surprise, and she dared to look at the goalie beside her. It was the first time she had looked at him without his mask on and found herself getting lost in his eyes. Even though it was cheesy. Even though she had sworn she wouldn’t look at a teammate that way again. He was watching her expectantly, obviously wanting a response.

“Oh, uh… Yeah, I mean, it’ll be good for me. Be a part of the team and everything.” Fuck, why was she so awkward?

He chuckled, and his eyes softened. Kristen found it hard to look away from the light freckles on his nose, the way he smirked. “I’ve never been traded, but I can imagine it’s hard.”

“Yeah.” Kristen hit herself for not saying more, and quickly added on to the short reply. “It’s hard watching you guys play and imagining myself there, too. Like, there’s just so much chemistry, you know? But I’m excited. Something different.”

He was still smiling. God, he needed to stop doing that. “Does everyone here smile all the time or is that just because I’m here?”

“A little bit of both.” Fleury laughed, pushing his hand through his hair. “No smiling in Vancouver?”

“Not much. Although they’re probably smiling now that I’m gone.” She joked, looking down at her feet.

“How can they smile after losing such a great player?”

Kristen blushed, and was thankful for the hair that was covering her face as she kept looking down. She had no idea why all of Pittsburgh thought she was such a great player. “All of these compliments are going straight to my head, I hope you know that.”

“At least you’ll never be as much of a douche as Max.”

Max, who was just walking by as Marc-Andre made the comment, punched him in the shoulder. “Watch out for this one, Stew, he plays nice but he’s actually Satan reincarnated. You guys coming or what?”

Marc-Andre pretended to laugh and grabbed his blazer before making his way out of the door. Kristen followed close behind, taking one last look around the room before stepping out into the hall.

As the guys headed towards their cars, she suddenly realized that she didn’t have a ride. Taxis would be crazy at this time of night, and there was no way she was getting the team car to drop her off at a pub. She stood in the middle of the parking lot, unsure of who to tell or if she should even tell someone. Would it be easier to just walk? But she had no idea where the pub was, so there was no logic in that. Maybe she should just go home and text Max that she wasn’t feeling well.

Before she could make her way back to the building, Max and Fleury stopped, looking back at her. “You need a ride?” Max called.

“Yeah, I’m so sorry. I honestly totally forgot until now.” She caught up to the men, running her hand through her hair uncomfortably.

“I’ll take you, it’s no problem.” Marc-Andre nodded towards his car.

Max giggled to himself before walking away with a wave. “Be safe, kids.”

She could’ve sworn she saw her chauffeur blush but chalked it up to some joke Max probably said while she was behind them.

The car ride was silent for a couple of minutes, as the two tried to formulate some sort of small talk. Eventually, Kristen spoke.

“I don’t like the name Stew, just so you know.”

“Your expression said it all.” He glanced at her. “I don’t like when people call me my full name, and I’m pretty sure I make the same face that you did back there when they do.”

“So, just Marc? Andre?” Kristen was suddenly grateful that she hadn’t gotten a ride with Max.

“Marc. Or Flower.”

Traffic was beginning to get heavier. Kristen watched as people in Penguins jerseys made their way across the street.

“How about Kris?” Marc was watching her. She could’ve sworn his eyes scanned her body, but figured it was probably the light playing tricks on her.

“Only my parents call me that. Besides, we already have a Kris.”

“Hmmm… Kristen Stewart…”

Her heart jumped a little as he said her full name. Was it usually a turn on to hear your full name from a guy you only just started talking to? He had turned back towards the road, chewing on his lip as he thought. Kristen’s eyes immediately focused on his lips, his facial hair, the way his muscled shoulders moved as he turned left at an intersection.

“KStew?”

Jumping out of her trance, her eyes darted back up to his. “What, sorry?”

“KStew, anyone called you that before?”

She shook her head. How had they gotten to the pub so quickly? How much time had she spent watching him?

“I think it suits you better than just Stew.”

“I mean, it’s a little wordy,” she smirked at him as the two got out of the car, “but anything’s better at this point.”

Only a few people turned to stare at the pair as they made their way inside, and even less looked when they made their way through the crowd. A loud group was sitting in a booth in the back, and it didn’t take much detective work to figure out that was where they were supposed to be. The men were sitting close together, the booth not large enough to accommodate them. The rest of the group were at the pool tables, which were conveniently right beside the bar. Above the shelves of liquor, multiple TVs were playing highlights from the game that night. Kristen happened to look up just as they were showing a close-up of her talking to Mario. She was happy that she couldn’t hear what they were saying.

Marc had made his way to the bar, whispering something to Max. Kristen stood awkwardly in the middle of everything, glancing between her three options. The group at the booth were rowdy, which would have been her crowd back in Vancouver. However, the older men at the pool tables and bar seemed like a smarter option, too engrossed in their game and conversations to obsess over buying each other drinks.

She walked to the bar and ordered a water, avoiding eye contact with the men sitting beside her. Her face had popped up on the screen again.

“You’re popular, eh?” Max had appeared beside her.

“Apparently.” A long sip of water.

Max turned back to the TV, elbowing Kristen whenever she came onto the screen. She knew she was going to have a huge bruise before the end of the night.

“I wonder what they’re saying about you. Hey, can you turn that up!” He was motioning to the bartender, ignoring Kristen’s protests. The volume was eventually loud enough to hear over the rowdy-booth group.

“I really don’t want to know.” Kristen stood up, taking her glass of water over to the pool tables, Max’s laugh from behind her making her shake her head.

She spent most of her time watching the guys bet against each other, Tanger winning almost every game. None of the guys bothered her, and the most any of them did was nod towards her. In any other case she would’ve been offended, but she knew that most of them understood exactly how she was feeling in that moment. Pros of hanging out with a group of guys who had travelled all around North America before they were twenty-five: they knew when you needed to just blend into the background.

Eventually, most of the older men decided it was time to head out, leaving Kristen, Max and Marc at the bar, a few rookies still hanging around in the booth, and Sid and Geno sitting at their own table. Kristen knew it was too late for them to still be out, considering the time they’d be flying out in the morning, but was having too much fun to leave.

“Is he always so focused?”

Max and Marc glanced over at the men at their own table, both laughing as they realized what Kristen meant. Sidney, who was facing them, was frowning in concentration, his arms waving as he tried to tell some sort of story to the other. The intensity of Sidney Crosby could be felt from across the room.

“He’s passionate about everything he does. Especially telling stories.” Max said. “Gotta get the facts straight, you know.”

Sid was still waving about.

“How much you wanna bet he’ll knock that glass over?” Marc had pulled out his wallet, waving five dollars in front of the other’s faces.

“There’s no bet there. It’s going to happen before the end of the night.”

The three laughed before focusing on the TV in front of them, which had switched to some sort of sports gossip channel. It was no surprise when her face appeared again. The pub was quiet enough that they could all hear the accusations that were being made about her, but Kristen kept her face straight. She’d heard it all before.

“… the fact is, she knows what she’s doing wrong, and she’s taking all of this for granted anyway! Look at the situation in Vancouver, that is a great example of a player that is not in this for the hockey—"

“Yes, but you could say the same about multiple other players in this league!”

The two hosts argued about her personal life, the situation with Him, the months in rehab. Anything they could get their hands on to prove that this wasn’t the place for her.

“Do you miss it there?” Max looked at her, his expression soft.

“No. Not one bit.”

“Is it true? All of the stuff that happened with… you know… and the partying and all that? That you were depressed?”

“Fuck, Max.” Marc smacked him on the shoulder, rolling his eyes.

“No, it’s okay.” Kristen paused, sipping some water before beginning. “It’s true. Well, most of it. I went overboard every night. It was fine until it started effecting the people around me, and we started losing games. Looking back, it was more than just the shit that I was doing that was making us lose games, but at the time it felt like it was all on me. I mean, I used to spend hours, I mean hours, re-watching those games. Two-six of Vodka in one hand, remote in the other. Just replaying these moments over and over, nitpicking everything. It got to the point where I knew what they’d say in video, you know? Everything I’d fucked up. This was after Derek and Rick, so that probably didn’t help, but still.”

“Jesus. That’s terrible.”

“That’s the thing, it didn’t feel terrible at the time. I thought I deserved to just sit there and watch that. And they didn’t make me think any different.”

Marc was looking at her in a way that she was very used to. Pity. That look had been incredibly popular during her group therapy, always showing up when she recounted the things she had done to others. Although, it was fine coming from him. It was real.

Or lust. Another thing she was used to. But that wasn’t a possibility.

Max, on the other hand, looked angry. “That’s bullshit. Like you said, Vancouver was fucking itself up from the beginning. To put it all on you like that…” He shook his head.

“There were things I could’ve done differently.” She looked down at the counter, picking at the napkin under her glass. “If I hadn’t brought it into the locker room, we would’ve been good. Look at how many fucking guys that lived the same lifestyle and were completely fine.”

“You don’t know if they were fine or not.” Max had his hand on her shoulder.

Kristen nodded, uncomfortable with the way that she was starting to feel, the thoughts that were going through her head. Marc was looking back at the TV, but she could tell his mind was somewhere else.

Max spoke again. “Well, we’re happy you’re here now. That’s all that matters. And you’re going to kick ass tomorrow. Speaking of tomorrow, we should probably head out. Six in the morning, remember?”

Marc and Kristen both nodded, then looked at each other. He was giving her that look again. She tried to remember that he’d had a couple of beers, that what he may be thinking now wasn’t how he truly felt. She thought about asking Max for a ride home instead, but he had mentioned earlier that night that he lived farther away from her.

She ended up with Marc anyway. It was quiet again, and they both kept their eyes straight ahead.

It wasn’t until they were sitting outside of the hotel that Marc looked her way.

“I’m sorry. About what happened there.”

She dared to make eye contact with him, and almost instantly regretted it. The street lights were reflecting in his eyes, making him look like a fucking Disney character. Though she would never be having these thoughts about a Disney character.

“It’s fine, really. Eventually you get used to hearing it.”

“I can’t even imagine, though.” Marc’s gaze had moved down to her lips. He caught himself before Kristen could put too much thought into it.

“Yeah...”

“Anyway, you probably want to head in.” Marc laughed awkwardly, hand running through his hair.

“Fuck. Yeah, I didn’t even pack.” That was a complete lie, she hadn’t unpacked from the previous plane ride.

“Okay, yeah. So, see you tomorrow.”

“See ya.”

Afterwards, Kristen replayed the night over and over in her head, counting the amount of times she probably could have kissed him and gotten away with it. Fourteen in total. But she wasn’t thinking that way about teammates anymore.

0—0—0

Marc had denied himself the opportunity for a romantic life for awhile. Well, it felt like a while, but in reality it had only been a couple of months.

He knew about Kristen and the things that happened in Vancouver. In his defense, who didn’t? It had been all over the news, and the times they had played the Canucks he had seen the way the crowd reacted to her. She had scored on him twice both of those games, and he caught himself trying to get a good look at her as she celebrated with her line mates behind the net. Her smile made his heart melt, and he caught himself focusing more on her playing than his own.

Everyone also knew she was beautiful. What were the odds of the only woman to be brought into the NHL being gorgeous? And all of the guys had talked about if they would try anything with her. Most of them had said no, only because she scared them. She tried to get into fights constantly, but not in a way that made it seem like she was trying to prove something. She was just a fire ball. Like a little sun. He had started calling her that in his mind as soon as he met her.

So, when Marc got home that night, he had immediately Googled her. Not because he was obsessed, just curious.

And when he closed his eyes that night and her face was all he could see, like she was plastered behind his eyelids, he kept thinking about her smile because he was curious.

And he thought about the two of them catching each other in the shower (not that that would ever happen) and starting to kiss and… Not because he wanted to be with her, but because he was curious.


	4. Death Valley

Back on a plane, a nice plane, but still a plane. Kristen had never done well with planes; her anxiety had always spiked up.

The rest of the team seemed to not have that problem. Card games, video games, reading. Everyone had their thing, and Kristen’s thing had always been getting stoned out of her mind and falling asleep for the hours that it would take to get to their destination. Her doctor had given her anxiety meds, but she never took them.

Marc and Sid always sat beside each other, which Kristen had known before she had boarded, but she still felt a knot in her stomach as she walked past his seat. He was already playing his game, not looking up as she walked by. Max was also with them, already yelling profanities at whoever could listen.

Kristen found a window seat, and pulled out her headphones, trying her hardest to not allow the anxiety to work itself up more. It would be a nice flight, and she could distract herself with the way the clouds were moving underneath them.

“Free?”

She looked up to see Geno motioning to the seat beside her. There were other free seats around her, but the look on his face suggested he wanted to talk. Or maybe just sit there, knowing there was someone beside him. She could understand that.

“Yeah, for sure.” A small smile.

“Thanks.” Geno smiled back, plopping down beside her and immediately pulling out his phone. “Is too early.”

“I kinda like it. I always feel better when I wake up early.”

“No, is too early.” Geno said, smile still on his face as he looked down at his phone.

She knew they wouldn’t be talking much, but didn’t mind. The presence of him was enough for her to relax into her seat and close her eyes. There was a part of her that longed for Marc to be there instead, for his arm to be slightly touching hers, his leg to be bouncing up and down.

When she was in Vancouver, He would sit that way when they were on the plane. His leg would constantly be moving, and eventually she would smack her fist on it jokingly, and He would give her that smile… Sometimes His wife would call before their flight, when His hand was on her thigh. Then, they’d have sex in the hotel room and pretend that He didn’t have to say goodnight to His kids, and she would leave when He did that so that she could drown herself in vodka and maybe He would come to her room afterwards and hold her through the night because she could never get to sleep without someone else in the room. But He rarely did, because He had a family that wasn’t her and, even though everyone knew about them, what would people say if He was walking out of her room in the morning…

It was the plane hitting the tarmac that woke her up, but it was Geno shaking her carefully that made her open her eyes.

“We here now. Sorry to wake you.” He gave her a gentle smile as she rubbed her eyes.

“Oh. I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I was asleep—”

“No, don’t be. I’m like sitting with you.”

He helped her gather her things and pulled her up out of her seat. The heat from outside was already welcoming, and she pulled off her jacket before they walked out of the plane.

“Hey, sleepy.” Max laughed as she caught up with the rest of the group.

Marc was watching them from farther away, clearly not listening to what Tanger was trying to explain. He had taken off his jacket, too, and his arms were crossed in front of him. Strong arms that would make her feel safe before she fell asleep…

She stopped herself before it got worse. She was not feeling this way for a teammate.

0—0—0

“Fucker!”

Max had scored on him again. To be fair, Kristen had been fooling around with Geno by the bench, their friendship forming seemingly from nowhere. If he hadn’t known Geno’s secret, he would be worried.

Worried about what, though? There was nothing for him to worry about.

He certainly wasn’t worried about how Max had caught him watching her during their keep-up soccer game, how his eyes were definitely not on her face. She was wearing leggings, it was distracting. But there was nothing to worry about.

The game went by quickly. The Kings’ lack of shots on goal meant that Marc got a shutout, and Kristen had made her mark by assisting Sid in a beautiful breakaway goal, as well as a hip-check that made the arena _ooh_ and _ahh_. He had watched her for most of the game, excited when she got onto the ice. Like a firecracker. Maybe she had something to prove, but it didn’t take her long to prove it.

As the last buzzer went off, the Pens made their way to his net, head taps and smiles all around.

Max leaned towards him, a joking grin on his face as he said in French, _“She knows you’re looking at her. Make a move or forever look like a creepy stalker.”_

Marc rolled his eyes, but the comment stayed with him as Kristen came up next in line, tapping his helmet and congratulating him. He nodded at her but couldn’t get words out before she had moved on. Max had been watching them, and was whispering something to Tanger. Probably keeping the other Frenchman up to date on Marc’s ‘creepy stalker’ tendencies.

It wasn’t until the group was heading to their hotel rooms before he got a chance to talk to her. They were standing in the elevator, alone, and were both watching the doors. The reflection of her in the metal was enough to sustain his curiosity. She was playing with something in her hands, a puck that Sid had gotten from her assist, saying it was the beginning of a point-streak. She had just laughed it off, but Marc knew that it meant more to her than she would ever show.

She was wearing a dress, a beautiful dress, that brought a certain girly vibe that she never usually had. Something a first lady would wear. He wondered briefly how often she wore these clothes, or if she just donated them when she was done.

“Congrats, again.” She was the one to speak first.

“I didn’t have to do much. I was almost waiting for you guys to let them have one. Pity.” He risked looking towards her, and his stomach fluttered as he watched her chuckle.

“One of them mentioned losing to a girl.” Kristen rolled her eyes, looking back down at the puck. “I don’t think I’ll ever get over that one.”

“That explains the hip-check.”

“That was mostly for fun. I told Geno about the chirp, that was what the fight was about.”

Marc’s mind went back to Geno’s intense fight, which had gotten him kicked out of the game. The other player’s face was enough for everyone to know that he had won. He nodded, turning back to the elevator doors. “He’s a good guy.”

“You all are. Honestly, I was so scared that my reputation would be enough for everyone to hate me. But… I don’t know, it feels like family here. Everyone knows I fucked up, so there’s no point in talking about it. What really matters is just playing the game.”

Marc nodded again. All of it was true. “We’ve all fucked up once or twice. The only thing you can do is just keep going.”

Kristen’s face was lighter, her body less tense as they stepped out of the elevator. Marc knew that their rooms were close together, and Max’s stalker comment played in his head again.

The thought of her grabbing his hand and pulling him into her room swam in his head. It would be too perfect.

“Well you, uh… you have a good night, okay?” Kristen hesitated in front of her door, toying with the piece of tape Sid had stuck to her puck. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah, for sure. You too.” Marc watched her close the door before making his way to the room across the hall.

Max was already asleep, passed out in just his boxers on top of the blanket. Marc rolled him over gently, just enough to get the blanket over his body. The other man made a gurgling noise before pulling the blanket higher and rolling away from Marc.

He couldn’t help but think about what Kristen was doing now. If she was reading that Stephen King book Duper had gifted to her or watching the game highlights and nitpicking every move she made. Maybe she was wondering what he was up to, too. Although that was a long shot.

He thought about her in the shower again, because he was still curious.

0—0—0

Kristen was sitting in the stands, a cup of ginger tea in her hands. She was still in her leggings and a custom Penguins hoodie, and her hair was wet from the sink shower she’d taken earlier. The arena had yet to open up the visitor’s locker room so that she could shower, and she hadn’t felt like waiting for all of the guys to leave. She didn’t see a problem with showering when they were still there, but legally the team felt it best to rule out any “possibilities”. Like the “possibility” that had happened in Vancouver.

Sid, Geno, and Marc were still fooling around on the ice, the three that felt most at home in the rink. She found herself watching Sid the most, wondering how the fuck he could do the things that he did. When she was still back at home, she had heard about him almost every day. The legend. The new best player in the league. But to see him in the locker room, there was nothing but boyish charm, like he was twelve again. It was fascinating.

“Stew!”

Geno was standing in the middle of the ice, waving his stick in the air frantically. They had decided that only he could call her by her old nickname, as long as he would make her food to bring home whenever he could. It had worked out well in her favour.

“Yes?” she called back, standing up and walking towards the bench. Geno met her there, smiling as he ruffled her hair with his glove.

“I’m need third person. You in?” He pointed at her.

“I totally would but…” She shook her mug in way of an answer. “Tea was calling me.”

Geno nodded. “Ginger. Very serious.”

“I think Tanger’s still around. I can try to find him?”

His face lit up again, the excited bobbing of his head making her laugh before turning around and heading back to the locker room.

Kris was still in his stall, his phone in his hand and legs splayed out in front of him.

“Hey.” Kristen stood in front of him, picking at the sleeve of her hoodie.

He lifted his head, pushing his long hair back and frowning. “Hey?”

“Geno needs someone else to practice drills with. I told him you were still around? Should I tell him you left, or…?”

“Um. No. No, that’s fine. Tell them I’ll be out in a bit.” He stood up, putting his phone back into his backpack.

The tension between the two was intense. Not sexual, purely of things left unsaid. Finally, Kristen turned to leave, sighing as she opened the door.

“They tried their best to forgive the shit that you did. I hope you know that.”

His voice cut through her, causing her to hold her breath and stop with the door slightly open.

She searched her brain for an appropriate response, something that would make up for what had happened. All she found was an almost angry answer. “I did everything I could. I paid my dues. I took responsibility.”

“You ruined their lives, Kristen. You ruined my best friend’s family for what? Attention? A quick lay?”

“It’s none of your business why we did what we did.” She turned around to glare at him, fighting away the tears of frustration. She didn’t notice her feet walking towards him, the way her hands had turned into fists.

“We? That shit was all you.” He moved closer to her, finger pointed into her face. “You. I tried so hard to ignore it, to pretend that I don’t still hate you for what he had to go through, for what his family had to go through. But I see your face and I just… I can’t stop thinking about what he should have said about you in public.” He was moving even closer now, his finger still in her face. _“SALOPE. Vous êtes un putain de merde, vous le savez? Tu ne mérites pas d'être ici. Tu ne mérites pas ça!”_

She was backed up into a stall, her hands shaking. His face was so close to hers that she could feel the heat radiating from it.

“Kris, I—"

“What the fuck?”

Kristen’s eyes darted to a third presence in the room. Sidney was standing in the doorway beside them, looking back and forth between the two. “What the fuck is happening?”

Geno and Marc were behind him, their laughter coming down the hallway. It abruptly stopped when they saw her leaned into the stall, Kris’s eyes still locked on hers.

_“Elle est un putain de cochon. Putain d'écume.”_ He spit the words at her, refusing to turn his head towards the other men.

“What he say?” Geno turned to Marc, whose face had darkened.

Kris finally turned to them, pointing his finger at her again. _“J'ai dit qu'elle est un cochon.”_

Marc stood there silently, hands in fists. Sidney, who knew a bit of French but not enough to translate, was still looking between the two of them. Finally, he stepped forward. “How about we just talk this through? In a language we can all understand?”

It didn’t take Kris long to explode even more, a slew of words that Kristen didn’t understand directed at everyone in the room. Geno grabbed his arms, pulling him to the other side of the room. He was yelling at Kris in Russian, and Kristen would’ve found the sight of the two screaming at each other in languages neither understood funny under different circumstances.

She found herself sitting on the floor, her heart racing. She had never been yelled at that way, with such pure anger and emotion. She wanted to apologize to Kris a million times, to explain to him that what had happened with his best friend was a mistake. That she hadn’t known about his family until it was too late. Instead, she was now sinking even farther towards the floor, knees pulled up to her chest. Sidney still looked confused but was trying to usher the yelling couple out of the room, while Marc looked down at her.

“I didn’t mean to start that. I promise.” Kristen said to him, holding her legs closer to her.

Marc was still silent, probably processing what Kris had said to her. Or Kris had said just what he needed to, enough to make her have to leave Pittsburgh forever and never talk to these people again.

“We know. It’s, um… G, get him out of here.” Sidney pulled them out of the room, yelling still heard as they walked down the hall. “I’ll be honest, I have no idea what to do here. Flower, what did he say?”

“Bad things. Things he… should get kicked out for.” Marc was still looking at her like she was an injured puppy. He focused his gaze on the hallway outside, the sounds of yelling men slowly disappearing. “Fucking bastard.” He muttered.

Sidney sat down beside her, shaking his head. “When all of that stuff got out, he told me he was kind of involved. But not enough to get that pissed over it.”

“It was his sister’s husband. They were best friends.” Kristen sighed shakily. “This is all stupid.”

“Oh.”

They stayed like that for awhile, Sidney’s hand on her knee. Marc eventually sat down in his stall and took off his kit. She hadn’t even realized the three of them hadn’t gotten changed yet.

It had been around half an hour before Sidney got up. “I have to get changed. I promised someone I’d take them to dinner.” He patted Kristen’s shoulder.

“Have fun.”

“Hey, we’ll figure this out okay?”

Kristen nodded, but stayed in the fetal position until he had gotten dressed and left.

“I’m really sorry.” She turned to Marc, blinking away frustration. There was so much more that she wanted to tell him, that he shouldn’t judge her based on those moments. That she was young, and it just so happened that her mistakes were televised. She didn’t want to lose her second chance, her last chance. “I’m so fucking pathetic.” She focused on her hands so that she wouldn’t have to look at him.

Marc frowned at her. “What?”

She felt her stomach twist and regretted talking right away. Of course, he wouldn’t care, why would he? This wasn’t his business. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no.” The frown had gone away, replaced with a hand running through his hair. “I meant to say, uh… he’s the pathetic one. For bringing all of that up now. It was so long ago, you know? If they weren’t able to figure it out, then that’s their fault.”

Things felt easier when she heard that. Kristen found herself standing up and moving to the stall beside him.

“Thank you.” She said, and found the courage to look into his eyes. “Thank you, really.”

“You beat yourself up for so much, but almost none of it was your fault.” He chuckled. “Wow, that was kind of a shitty pep talk. ‘Almost none of it.’”

Kristen laughed, wiping away a few tears that had escaped. “Well, it’s true.”

Marc shrugged. “There’s worse you could’ve done.”

It was hard to keep her heartbeat at a point where it didn’t feel like it was going to beat out of her chest. He was toying with his cufflinks in such an innocent way, as if he was as nervous as she was. If that was even possible.

The two sat there for what felt like both forever and five minutes, in silence. A nice silence. A silence that she knew she needed, with a person that she was afraid she needed.

0—0—0

After their first meeting, he had watched videos of her playing in the WHL. Her moves rivaled both Sid’s and Ovie’s, made even more impressive by her small stature. The other players looked like giants lumbering over her, too clumsy to catch up.

Then it turned into interviews, most of a shitty quality probably filmed on someone’s flip phone. But it was her voice, and even the beauty of that translated through the quality. It was dumb, but he felt like he knew her in such an intimate way, especially after numerous other meetings that he knew she wouldn’t remember.

It was creepy, it was fucked up.

The drive home was full of memories of her introducing herself to him every time, as if he wouldn’t remember her. He didn’t take offence that someone like her wouldn’t remember him. Then, he was replaying their conversation in the locker room over and over, pinpointing moments where he should’ve said this or that, as if it would make a difference.

His phone went off as soon as he stepped through his door, making him jump. He had given her his number as they were saying goodbye, using the excuse that she could text him if she was feeling sad about the whole situation. He hadn’t expected her to actually do it, though.

**Hey, thanks again. I know I’m a fucking mess**

Marc smiled as he plopped onto his bed, not bothering to take off his suit.

**It’s no problem, really.**   
**Can I call you?**

The immediate response alone would’ve made him nervous, but potentially hearing her voice as he laid in his dark room, all alone…

In an act of courage that was rare for him, he hit the call button first.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Her voice was raspy, he could only guess from crying, and a TV was playing quietly in the background. “This is weird.”

“A bit.” Marc chuckled. “It’s okay, though.”

“I feel so nervous. I don’t know why.” Kristen exhaled heavily. “We just saw each other.”

“Some people are afraid of phone calls.” What the fuck? Why was that something he thought would work in a conversation?

“That’s true.” She giggled, and his heart melted. “I guess I wanted to thank you again. I know, I just did that, I just…”

“Wanted to keep talking?”

“Yeah. It’s lonely here.”

Marc’s mind turned to his past experiences with that sentence when it came to phone calls. It was usually followed by a description about what someone was wearing. “Here, too.”

“This will sound stupid—”

“Perfect. Tell me.”

Another giggle. “Well… can we just stay like this? On the phone? You can do whatever you want, it’ll just help me fall asleep.”

“Of course.” He loosened his tie, turning on the TV in front of him. “What are you watching?”

“Friends. For the millionth time.”

Marc looked at the guide, finding the channel that was marathoning the TV show. “Now I am, too.”

“Do you like this episode?”

He frowned at the image of Rachel and some guy hugging on their balcony. “If I’m being honest, I haven’t really seen this show.”

“Oh, my God. Marc-Andre Fleury, are you telling me that you don’t religiously watch Friends?”

“Maybe.” He laughed, then turned on the French subtitles. He was done with thinking about English. “Is that a sin?”

“Definitely. I’ll have to explain all of this to you.”

He heard rustling, as if she was curling up more in bed. The image made him smile even bigger. Instinctively, he reached his arm out to the other side of the bed, almost hoping that he would feel the pressure of her head on his chest.

They spent four episodes discussing the plot, Kristen catching him up on any jokes he didn’t get or characters he didn’t know. She would occasionally exclaim that 'this next joke is my favourite!', and he would laugh along even if he still didn’t fully understand it.

Eventually, her talking got slower, until there was only the sound of quiet snores. He had almost forgotten that she wasn’t beside him, that she was all alone in a hotel room blocks away and he was all alone in his apartment. Another episode went by before he finally decided to hang up.

_“Good night, little sun. See you soon.”_


	5. Into You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to www.wowicantwritesmut.com also i'm sorry if you actually speak french because we all know how google translate is. thanks for reading!!

The games went by, and Marc noticed that Kristen had started to become more comfortable on the ice. She was meshing with almost everyone, except for Tanger (although he had been given time off for a couple of games after the fight had happened). She was louder, harder. She was the player she had been when she first started in Vancouver.

Marc had spent a lot of time trying to keep his mind off her since their phone call, which meant avoiding her. It wasn’t something that he enjoyed, but what would people say if they were together all the time? Dan was already pissed about her past being brought up in the locker room. If he suspected that they were interested in each other, all hell would break loose. The two shared friendly smiles in the locker room and hotel lobbies, but that was the extent of their friendship.

He was waiting at a small café (Max was late again) when he saw her walk in the door. She was dressed casually, effortless. He ducked his head quickly, pretending to be interested in what type of wood the tables were made of. Kristen was standing at the counter in front of him, texting someone quickly. He risked a glance up at her, watching her frown at her phone before looking around the café. Lowering his head again, he ran his hand down his face, pulling out his own phone. Max had texted him.

**Got ya ;) **  
 **What?**   
**Ur gonna have a different date for lunch… sorry buddy ;)**  
****

His mind went back to a conversation they’d had earlier in the day, right after practice. Marc had been looking at her again, longing teasing at his heart. She looked so beautiful out there… He had promised himself he wouldn’t use the word beautiful to describe her, but his week without speaking to her had allowed him some leeway. Max had watched him watch her the whole time and approached him afterward.

_“You need to do something about this, Flower.”_

Marc turned away from him, pulling off his jersey before sitting down in his stall. _“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”_

Max laughed, glancing over at Kristen, who was joking around with Geno across the room.

_“I mean, I don’t know why you think there’s anything to do about… her. We’re just hanging out.”_

“You’re doing the opposite of hanging out, which means something’s up. The last time I saw you so hung up on someone you ruined it by never fucking talking to her!”

Marc had adamantly denied that, which had started a long discussion in quick and quiet French, which had gotten the attention of Geno. He told them if he couldn’t speak Russian in the room they couldn’t speak French (after a rule Max had made, since he felt he was privy to everyone’s conversations). Kristen had laughed and agreed, which made Max raise his eyebrow at Marc.

“Ask her out.”

That was all the team needed to pry for the girl’s name. Kristen had stayed in the background, a strange look on her face.

And now he was in a romantic café with the girl he’d been pining over for weeks. She was looking at him. He panicked, waving her over before he could think about what he was doing. She gladly strolled over as if she wasn’t breaking his heart with how good she looked.

“Hey. You waiting for someone? I thought I had plans but I should’ve known that Ma—”

“Max.” Marc nodded, rolling his eyes. “Me, too.”

Kristen laughed. She had been laughing and smiling a lot more lately. “Seriously? Not only is he consistently late, but he can’t even remember when he’s already made plans.” The sound of the chair across from him scratching against the floor made him look away again.

Marc chuckled nervously. Her hand was close to his on the table, cupping a mug of ginger tea. She always smelled like ginger. He never thought he would like the smell that much.

“How’s the house hunt going?” He remembered eavesdropping on that conversation with Sid.

She put her hand under her chin, giving a sly grin. _“Comme ci, comme ça.”_

“Oh, so you’re learning French now? _Apprendre à impressionner Max, hein?”_

“See, you had to ruin it by saying something I don’t understand.” She said, eyebrows raised but the grin still on her face.

Marc found himself smiling back. She took a sip of tea, her hand brushing against his as she lifted the mug. He internally punched himself in the arm. There were butterflies in his stomach. Like he was in high school again.

“I’m only learning so that I can eavesdrop on you guys.” She licked her lips. There were more than butterflies in his stomach.

He forced a laugh, trying to think of platonic conversation starters. But wasn’t this platonic? He was going insane.

“Geno wanted me to learn Russian, but I don’t think I have the… aggressiveness. Or the sexiness. Although, French is a pretty sexy language, too, so maybe I should stick to English.”

She looked beautiful… sexy. The warmth of the café was accentuating the golden highlights in her hair. She looked like she was glowing, and she kept licking her lips in that way that made him want her to-

Nope. He was not letting himself think about that.

“In your defense, me and Max are not the sexiest people in the locker room.” He joked.

Another sly grin that drove his heart crazy. There was a comfortable silence as the two sipped their drinks, watching the world outside of the window. He could tell there were people that recognized her, but luckily, they stayed away. However, Max never knew when to quit, and Marc’s phone buzzing ruined the mood.

“Sorry, it’s probably… Yup.”

Kristen checked her phone. “Same. To check it or to leave him hanging? That is the question.”

“He’ll just keep texting if we don’t answer.” Marc sighed, and the two opened his message at the same time.

**U guys look good together. U gonna tell her how you feel yet? Or just not take advantage of the perfect opportunity that I’ve given u.**

Marc’s face flushed, and he quickly looked up at Kristen, who was also blushing at her phone. He answered Max back before she could catch his gaze.

**I can’t just tell her that. We haven’t even talked in 2 weeks, I can’t just be like “hey I think you’re beautiful and amazing and I’d like to make this work”**   
**Y not?**   
**Because I just can’t.**   
**She doesn’t speak French.**

Marc raised his eyebrows, watching Kristen type furiously back to Max.

**What are you talking to her about?**   
**Nothing u need to know. Just do it, flower.**

He finished his coffee, looking back out the window. He thought he saw Max’s winter coat walking across the street.

Maybe he should just tell her. If she couldn’t understand it, he could make up something else. Say that he was just talking to himself.

“Fuck, that guy is like a little brother. Well, a big brother, I guess.” Kristen’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “It’s so hard to hate him, though.”

“He’s always right. And he won’t let you forget it.” Marc toyed with a napkin on the table, his heart beating too fast for his liking.

“I don’t know how you deal with it all the time.”

“It’s been a century and I still don’t know how I do it.”

She laughed, checking the time on her phone before looking up at him. “He wanted to meet me somewhere else. Said he had something to explain to me?”

Marc shrugged, motioning for Kristen to stand up. “That’s okay, I have some stuff I have to get done.”

Kristen nodded, running her hand through her hair. The two stood beside the table awkwardly, not wanting to say goodbye first. Eventually, Max started spamming her phone, and she laughed.

“I’m so sorry. I should probably call him, see where he is.”

“Yeah, for sure. Have a good time. Make good decisions.” He smiled, pulling his jacket on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She waved quickly, turning to walk away. He watched her walk out the doors and down the sidewalk, laughing as she spoke on the phone.

Max’s words replayed in his head, almost to the point of haunting him. For the first time in his (potential) romantic life, he said fuck it.

Now was his chance.

He ran out the door a little too fast, afraid that she would start walking away. People in the café looked at him funny, but he didn’t care. He would hate himself forever if he didn’t take advantage of this chance.

She was still talking on the phone when he caught up to her, touching her lightly on the shoulder. She turned around, a surprised look on her face. “Marc?”

_“I, um… Je pense que vous êtes belle, et amusante, et vous faites battre mon coeur trop vite parfois et je déteste habituellement cela, mais pas avec vous. Je veux juste, euh ... je veux t'emmener un jour. Correctement. Et je sais que tu ne comprendras pas ça, alors ça ne sert à rien, mais ... ouais.”_ He exhaled nervously, running his hand through his hair. The words had come out in such a rushed jumble that, even in English, no one would’ve been able to understand him.

Kristen lowered the phone. “Marc, I… don’t know what you just said.”

“Yeah, Flower!” Max’s voice came through the speaker.

0—0—0

“You have to tell me! It involves me!” Kristen was sitting in Max’s living room, a can of ginger ale in her hand and a worried look on her face.

Max was in the middle of making them a very fancy dinner, his classic cheeky grin plastered on his face. “If he wanted you to know, he would’ve said in English.”

Kristen rested her head against the back of his couch, closing her eyes. Her mind had been reeling since Marc had awkwardly walked away, wondering if she should try to decipher what he had said herself. Max had been refusing to let her know, using the same excuse each time. There was a part of her that wanted to believe it had been an admittance, the truth that he was in fact interested in her. Another part of her said that he had been avoiding her for a reason, he was just trying to let her down gently.

“Listen, eat your food, watch this game, and don’t think about it.” He handed her a plate of pasta and some sort of food form that she didn’t know.

“It’s impossible not to think about it!”

“Well… try harder.” Max shoved his mouth full of pasta. He turned to the TV, where the Predators were playing Toronto. Toronto was surprisingly up by two.

Kristen decided to follow his advice, enjoying her dinner and getting wrapped up in the game. She thought about their next game, which was coincidentally against Toronto. Dan had told her to set goals for herself, even if it just meant knocking someone over and getting an assist. It made everything easier to bear, and allowed her to get her mind off of herself and back into the game.

The Predators ended up winning by one goal. Max grabbed Kristen’s empty plate and headed to the kitchen, and she trailed behind him. It was time to pester him more.

“So, I’m just supposed to pretend that it never happened? Go on smiling at each other politely and leave it at that?”

Max shrugged. “If you want. Or you can ask him yourself. Either way, I know that he won’t bring it up until you do.”

“I recognized some words, you know.” Kristen leaned against the counter.

Max handed her another ginger ale, grabbing himself a beer, and shrugged again.

“So you might as well just tell me.”

“Good try, kiddo.”

“Can you at least give me a hint?” Kristen pouted jokingly.

Max took a sip of his beer, thinking. “How about I tell you another secret, instead?”

“I guess that works.”

He motioned for her to come closer.

“We’re the only ones in here, Max.”

He shook his head, grabbing her arm to pull her towards him. Her ginger ale sloshed in its can. Max leaned towards her ear, smiling.

“Geno and Sid.”

Kristen frowned. “Geno and Sid… what?”

He raised his brows. She knew she was supposed to understand, but her brain couldn’t process the ‘secret’.

“Geno and Sid are… friends? Living together?”

“Oh, so close.”

“Secret brothers?”

“Colder.”

She took a minute, looking out of the wide kitchen window. Snow was beginning to fall lightly, although it probably wouldn’t stick for awhile. Suddenly, while watching some children play across the street, it hit her. “They’re… what? Together?”

Max lifted his arm in celebration, playfully running around the kitchen island and knocking her on the shoulder lightly.

“Is that really it?” Kristen said, raising her eyebrows.

“Bingo. But no one can know this. It’s only me and Flower, and that’s because we walked in on them in the shower once.” He grimaced. “Not a pretty sight.”

She set her drink down, looking back out the window. How did no one know this? How were arguably the two best players in the league, whose lives were not private in the least, keeping this a secret? And what made Max think about telling her this in connection to Marc?

“Oh.” Her jaw dropped slightly, eyes still focused on the snowfall. “Oh my god.”

Max was watching her carefully, a smile beginning to form on his face.

“Oh my god.” She turned to him. “So, he… and he wants to… That was your fucked-up way of telling me that, wasn’t it?”

He shrugged, but the smile on his face said it all. “All I can say is that I’m happy for Sid and G.”

Slowly, he made his way back to the living room, leaving Kristen to keep staring out of a window and not knowing what to do next.

0—0—0

Toronto was ahead by one with five minutes left in the third period. Kristen was on the bench, trying to control her shaking leg. She always got that way when she was nervous. It reminded her of Him, and she hated it.

She had been thinking about Him constantly since her dinner with Max. Since the day Marc had admitted his… his what? His love for her? Admiration? That was the problem, she still had no idea how intense his feelings for her were. Maybe he just wanted to fuck, maybe he wanted to marry her. She wasn’t sure if she cared either way, as long as she could spend more time with him. The differences between Marc and Him were profound, even though she had only known Marc for at the most a month. Marc made her smile in his own awkward, cute way. Marc was unapologetically himself, whereas He had never done that. She had always smiled because she felt like she had to, He had always mirrored the personality of the person that He was talking to. She truly hadn’t known Him at all. Maybe that was why Marc already felt so much closer, more realistic.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the crowd cheering, making her look up to see a replay of Marc’s amazing glove save. She couldn’t stop the smile that had spread across her face, and it was still there even as she jumped off the bench and headed to the faceoff.

0—0—0

Marc had the perfect view of Kristen rushing up the ice, passing the puck to Sid as she stopped in front of the Toronto net. She was blocking their goalie’s view and was getting flack from a Toronto player. He kept nudging at her with his elbow, not enough for the ref to see but just enough that she was visibly annoyed. She nudged him back, and some choice words were heard even from Marc’s place on the opposite end of the rink.

Sid passed the puck back to Tanger, setting himself up for a tip in to the net. Kristen moved forward, calling for him to pass to her. Marc cringed to himself, knowing that Kris wouldn’t pass it back to her. She was in a prime position now, as the defenceman that was bugging her had moved on to Sid.

“Here! Here!”

She was calling to him as he toyed with the puck, avoiding attacks from the other team. He was thinking too long, Marc knew, and if he didn’t make a move now it would be too late.

Tanger’s decision to get the puck to Sid made her call out a string of profanities, but she set herself up on the opposite side of the net as Sid took a shot. The puck ricocheted off the Toronto player’s stick, and Kristen rushed to it, spinning herself around another defenceman. Marc felt his grip on his stick tighten. She took a shot, and it rebounded off the goalie’s stick, forcing him to quickly cover it up.

As the ref set up for another faceoff, the players were called off for a change. Kristen had turned to Tanger, anger written all over her face.

“I was fucking open! It would’ve been fucking perfect!” She was in front of him now, skating backwards towards the bench. “I was right there!”

He was ignoring her, trying to dodge her verbal attacks. Marc leaned onto his knees, looking towards Max, who was on the bench. Max shrugged, turning back towards her.

“Fucking talk to me!” Kristen had stopped in front of the gate, Dan telling her to get off the ice.

Tanger finally acknowledged her. “Don’t you fucking talk to me that way.”

“I’ll talk to you however I want! You just singlehandedly lost us a chance on goal!”

They were now on the bench, still both standing inches apart. Dan was shaking his head at them.

Marc was forced to turn back towards the faceoff, trying his best to ignore the argument that was still happening on the bench.

The Penguins ended up losing by one.

0—0—0

The locker room was tense, made even tenser by Kristen throwing her gloves at her stall.

Marc tried his best not to look at her, knowing that she just needed some time to herself. Kris, on the other hand, did not understand that, and was laughing at her tantrum.

“What the fuck are you laughing about?” she turned to him swiftly.

Kris simply shrugged, pulling his jersey off and tossing it into the basket.

Dan walked in, giving them the usual lecture of how they could’ve played better as a team, but also the things they had done well. He made a point of looking at Tanger as he said these things, and avoided Kristen’s stall at all costs. She was now sitting with her head in her hands.

The rest of the time in the locker room was uncomfortably quiet. Tanger luckily left first, which relieved some of the tension, but Kristen’s obvious frustration was felt by all. She didn’t bother changing out of her leggings and Under Armor, simply pulling on her hoodie and shoes and rushing out of the room.

Marc finished changing sometime later, after having a quick conversation with Sidney about dinner plans for that weekend. He made his way out to his car, nodding at some fans who were waiting outside. There was a body standing beside his car, a puff of smoke floating up into the air around it.

“Took you long enough.” Kristen smirked at him, taking another drag.

Marc stood in front of her, watching the smoke dance around her hand. Her eyes were red, probably from crying but he would never mention it. She looked harsher to him that night, a harsher kind of beautiful. They hadn’t had a chance to talk at practice that morning or before the game.

“I had to get all dressed up, I heard there was someone waiting creepily outside my car for me.” He tried his best to look in her eyes as he said it, but her gaze was too strong and he quickly went back to watching the cigarette.

“I know, I should quit.” She sighed, taking a last drag before putting it out with her shoe.

They stood in silence for a moment. It was a surprisingly warm night, and Marc would’ve had no problem standing outside all night.

“So, I wanted to talk to you. About the other day. I, um…” she paused, searching for the words. “I have an idea of what you said to me. And I just felt like maybe we should talk about it?”

Marc almost laughed at the way she was looking at him, as if he was an animal that was going to bite her at any moment. The idea of him hurting her was so unbelievable to him.

“I guess I just feel like I should say, uh… me, too. If what I think you said is actually what you said.” She tried her best to catch his gaze, her eyebrows pushed together, causing wrinkles to form between them.

“You, too?”

Kristen sighed, looking up at the sky. Her face softened as she noticed the stars, and Marc’s heart missed a beat. He leaned against the car, continuing to watch her.

Suddenly, Kristen looked away from the sky, turning to him sharply. “I have an idea.”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever smoked weed, Mr. Fleury?”

And that was how the two of them ended up in Marc’s living room, the balcony door opened slightly. The air had gotten chillier, so Marc had loaned Kristen one of his sweaters. She looked so unbelievably cute that he had to force himself to watch whatever dumb show was playing on the TV.

Marc had had a couple of hits, and it was hitting him a lot harder than he had expected. He had smoked a couple of times in high school and college, but any experience he may have had was long gone. After a ten minute coughing fit and a lot of Gatorade (Kristen had laughed at the fact it was the only beverage he had in the house), he was feeling good, light and happy. He was spending time with her, and that was what mattered.

Kristen was snuggled up on the couch across from him, laughing at the show she was watching. Marc found himself laughing along, too, simply because of her, which caused her to laugh more and the two ended up on the floor. They somehow managed to land beside each other, staring at the ceiling and trying to catch their breath.

And then her hand was in his, and he thought for sure he was going to die.

“Do you mind this?” She turned her head to look at him. Marc shook his head in response, smiling over at her. “What the fuck was wrong with Letang tonight?”

This made Marc laugh again. “What isn’t wrong with him all the time?”

“You Frenchmen and your problems.” Kristen giggled, rolling over onto her side. She was studying his face, and Marc became very aware of his imperfections, not wanting someone like her to be looking at someone like him.

“Aren’t you mad at him?” He tried to distract her from watching him.

“I feel like I should be, but right now it’s really hard to be mad.” She giggled again, and then sighed. “I had that happen to me a lot when I started in the minors. These guys wouldn’t trust me just because I have a vagina or something? So eventually I just lost it on them and they learned the errors of their ways. I know, it’s such an old-fashioned saying. Anyway, yeah, I lost it on them and they smartened up? So, I guess I just thought if I did that to Kris it would change something. But I fucked up his family’s life, so I guess it’s fair.”

“He’s acting like a child.” Marc watched the smile return to her face and couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. _“J'aime ton sourire.”_

“There you go again with the French!” Kristen smacked his arm jokingly, her hand squeezing his softly. “I know some, you know.”

“Then what did I say?” His voice was flirtier than he had intended, and Sober Marc was shocked at the guts that High Marc seemed to have.

“I love… something. Something to do with me?” Her gaze was seductive now, the slight physical contact they were making suddenly seemed like too much. “Did I tell you how much I love French guys?”

Marc felt himself heating up, and quickly looked away. Kristen had noticed his reaction and was giggling again.

“I was trying to seduce you in hopes you’d tell me what you said before at the café, not make you uncomfortable.”

He hesitated before answering. “Well, you succeeded on both counts.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She sat up, looking over at the pipe on the table. “Do you want some more?”

“I think I’m okay for now.” Marc smirked, then got up to head to the kitchen. He knew he didn’t have any real food in his fridge, but he checked anyway. A bag of chips on the counter caught his attention, and he brought them into the living room, offering some to Kristen.

“You’re such a gentleman.”

They sat closer together than before, and her hand found its way back into his. The move felt simple, platonic, comfortable. Like something they should’ve been doing all along.

“So, is this considered a date?” Kristen glanced over at him.

“If you want it to be.” Again, Marc was shocked at his confidence.

She shrugged, moving closer. “Only if you tell me what you said. You don’t have to look at me while you say it, I just… want to know. I feel like I deserve to know, so I can decide if what I’ve been planning tonight is the right move or not.”

Marc’s heart (and other parts of his body) jumped at that, and his brain jumped back and forth between telling her and making something up. If he didn’t tell her, he could risk out on something actually happening. If he did, he was risking having her reject him. He longed to call Max and ask him what to do, but he knew that Max would tell him to ‘do the right thing’. Leave it all up to him. The truth would be the best way to go.

“I said… Ugh, _merde.”_ He turned around to face the balcony. “I said that you’re… beautiful, and funny, and some other stuff that I forget, but the point is that you already make me feel things that I haven’t really felt before? And I don’t know what I want out of this exactly, but I know that I would’ve regretted it for a long time if I hadn’t said something.”

Marc kept facing the balcony, waiting for some sort of a response. He could hear Kristen breathing behind him, then he could hear a lighter and her inhaling. The smell of cigarette filled the room, but he didn’t care. It was her smell. The TV droned on.

“I have something to tell you, too.” Kristen finally answered. “Since the first time I actually looked at you, I felt like something was there. It’s hard to deny that you’re really attractive, but… I guess I’m afraid of what happened in Vancouver happening again. And, I’ll be honest, I came here tonight to do something that I might regret tomorrow, purely out of anger about the game, and Tanger, but I’ve been having so much fun with you that I don’t think I’ll regret it.”

He turned around, watching her take a long drag before continuing.

“I think the best thing to do is just hang out and see what happens. Right?” She looked at him expectantly.

Marc nodded slowly and settled back on the couch. Kristen put her cigarette out and leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. It felt right, the way their bodies fit together in that moment. It made him long for more.

0—0—0

Kristen watched the TV, but her mind was on the way Marc’s shoulder felt underneath her. He was strong, but not obviously strong, not in the way some of the other guys were. She had seen him shirtless before, but the locker room environment had never allowed her much time to look. Not in the way that she wanted to look at him now, in private.

It was three in the morning, and the optional skate at seven seemed more and more optional, more and more reason for the two of them to stay on that couch all day.

“Are you still hungry?” Marc spoke, pausing the show.

Kristen shrugged, getting up off his shoulder. He grabbed the now empty bag of chips, making his way to the kitchen, leaving Kristen there to decide if now was the time.

She had never been good with deciding when the right moment was. In Vancouver, He had always made the first move. And with women, Kristen always guessed, mostly because she could understand the subtle ques that women put out into the world. Guys were harder for some reason, even though she was constantly told that they only wanted sex. It was hard for her to use her sex to get what she wanted, to feel confident that a man wanted her. When she was drunk or high, she didn’t care about whether the person wanted her, which probably made said person want her more. Now that she was somewhat sober, with a man that she respected and cared about, it was harder than ever to decide what was right.

However, her body was making the decision for her. She was up on her feet and heading to the kitchen before she could even think about it.

He was standing beside the microwave, obviously thinking about something other than warming up his slice of pizza. Kristen moved up beside him, sliding her hand up his arm and stopping at his shoulder. Marc had turned his head to look at her, a serious look on his face. Well, less serious and more nervous.

She pushed against his shoulder, turning his body to face her. He lowered his gaze, eyes set on where her hands were resting on his chest.

“Are you okay with this?” She asked, whispering even though there was no one around to hear.

He nodded, quickly, as if the speed of his answer would determine if what was about to happen would happen.

Her hands made their way up around his neck, pulling him even closer until their lips were touching. It was soft, cautious, like when school kids get dared to kiss. But it didn’t take long until Marc’s hands were in her hair, the intensity raising as his tongue felt its way around her lips. He pushed her against the kitchen island, lifting her up onto the counter. His hands were running up her thighs, her breath ragged as he moved his lips to her neck…

The microwave beeped dramatically, making both of them jump. Kristen laughed quietly, her hand on her chest. The tension in the room was still palpable.

“I’m sorry, shit.” He looked at the microwave, and the look on his face made Kristen laugh.

“I’ll still be here after you finish eating.” She grinned.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin the mood or something, but, uh…”

“Please. You’ll need some energy for what’s about to happen.”

She couldn’t help but laugh again at the speed that Marc was scarfing down his pizza. “Don’t give yourself heartburn. Heartburn and sex don’t mix.” She closed her mouth quickly, unable to believe that she had been so blunt.

At the mention of the word sex, Marc stopped, looking down at his plate and then up at her. _“Que suis-je en train de faire?”_

With that, he was up on his feet, grabbing Kristen’s hand and bringing her to his room. She couldn’t help but notice the lack of personal touches, no photographs or posters, no tell-tale signs that this was his room apart from a couple of framed jerseys on the wall. His bed was neatly made, and there were two bedside tables on either side. Kristen caught herself wondering if he had been in a serious relationship before this, a relationship that would require a drawer for someone else.

Marc’s lips on her neck stopped her from wondering, thoughts of what they should be doing in the bed replacing themselves in her brain. Her hand made its way down his chest, stopping above the waistband of his jeans. The heat of his body radiated onto her.

She moaned quietly as he softly bit her neck, dragging her towards the bed and laying down. Kristen paused, watching him watch her. He looked at her like she was… no, she didn’t want to start thinking like that. It still wasn’t safe to start thinking like that.

Slowly, she got onto his lap, her fingers dancing around the buttons on his shirt. “You look great in this shirt.”

He winked, lifting his hands to help her unbutton. “I look even better with it off.”

“Oh my God. You’re actually the worst.” Kristen rolled her eyes.

With a sly smile, he spread open his shirt, revealing his chest. It was a part of his body she’d seen many times before, she’d seen everyone naked at that point, but there was something about just the two of them being there that made her heart flutter. He was incredibly strong and muscular, despite the fact that he looked decently slim with clothes on. She couldn’t help but stare.

Marc brought his hands to the edge of her hoodie, the cockiness in his eyes replaced with a look of timid interest. Kristen nodded, and he helped her pull it off. She silently cursed herself for not changing, since she was still in her sports bra and probably reeked. He didn’t seem to mind, running his fingers along her collar bone before pulling her in by her straps to kiss him.

Any nervousness they’d both been feeling was immediately gone. The kiss was intense, her lips felt swollen when he eventually pulled away to stroke her face. He was hard underneath her and kept bucking his hips up in a way that made her moan. In the heat of the moment, he flipped her onto her back, kissing her neck and moving his way down to her chest.

“Take this off.”

Kristen obliged, pulling off her bra and laying back down.

It was a blur until they were both naked, him on top of her with rough, uneven thrusts that accentuated how long he had been waiting for that moment. He muttered things she couldn’t understand into her ear, her neck, the inside of her thigh for what felt like hours. She couldn’t help but think she hadn’t felt that much pleasure in her whole life.

Marc rolled onto his back when they had both finished, distracting her from her thinking. “You’re okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, definitely.” Her face flushed as she realized she’d been silent for longer than she should have. “Thank you.”

He laughed. “No, thank you, _mon petit soleil._ Thank you.”

With that, he wrapped his arm around her, switching on the TV and turning the volume down low. Kristen allowed herself to snuggle closer to him, falling asleep with a smile on her face for the first time in months.


	6. These Girls

Marc’s phone woke her up at nine o’clock. It was light outside, and Kristen squinted, trying to find the phone in the blinding light. After some quick detective skills, she saw the phone flashing across the room. She groaned quietly, digging around in the blankets for her underwear and slowly getting up, afraid to jostle the bed too much.

Max’s name was on the screen. Kristen groaned again, glancing at Marc’s sleeping body before grabbing her shirt off the floor and taking the phone into the living room. Her cigarettes were sitting on the kitchen counter, and she took them to the balcony door, cracking it open a little before lighting it up and answering the call.

“Um, hey.” She almost laughed at the way she was lowering her voice, as if Max wouldn’t notice it wasn’t his best friend on the phone.

_“Où es-tu? Nous avions besoin d'un gardien ce matin—_ wait, Kristen? What are you… Oh my god, did you—”

“Max.”

“You legally have to tell me, since I brought you two together.”

She could almost hear him doing his trademark sly grin. “I don’t have to tell you anything, Max. Sorry we weren’t at the skate today.”

“So, it did happen then? If you’re not immediately denying it, I’m just going to assume it did.”

Kristen sighed, exhaling smoke out onto the balcony. She wished Marc would wake up.

“Was he good?” Max chuckled. “I’m just going to ask him the same question, but you’re gonna tell me the truth.”

“It was… Great, honestly. A lot of tension at first, but he, uh… he did great.” She could feel herself heating up and checked down the hall before continuing. “I got him high, I think that helped.”

“So, was it like super angry fuck-me-over-the-table kind of sex, or that romantic stuff?”

“Max!” Kristen couldn’t help laughing, putting her barely-smoked cigarette out and standing up.

“Remember, I’m just gonna end up asking him later.”

She sighed, making her way to the kitchen. The lack of real food in the fridge was depressing. “It was… Passionate, I guess?”

Max made a noise of approval, and there was sounds of other men in the background. She assumed he was still at the rink, hopefully not telling everyone what had happened between their two teammates earlier that morning.

“Do you want me to wake him up? You can get the interrogation over with early.”

Max made another noise, then sighed. “He should probably get his rest. Ask him if we’re still on for dinner tonight.” The familiar sounds of the rink were replaced with wind. “I’m heading out now, call me later, okay?”

“For sure. Bye, Max.”

“See ya, Stew!” His laugh was the last thing she heard before he hung up.

0—0—0

The space beside him was empty when he eventually woke up. The clock said it was noon, and the light from the window was bright. There were noises coming from the living room, and the disappointment that made its way into his stomach was replaced by happiness.

It was hard to believe that the night before had happened. It felt like a fever dream to Marc, a dream that was too good to be real. But it had happened, and Kristen was still there, and now he could spend his day with her.

He pulled on a pair of sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. His phone was nowhere in sight, but the presence of Kristen’s belongings strewn across his floor made him forget that. More proof that this was real.

He made his way into the living room. Sportsnet was playing on the TV, and she was sitting on the couch, a bag of chips and a Starbucks cup on the coffee table.

“Your phone’s on the counter, Max called.” Kristen turned around in her seat, smiling at Marc. “He wants to know if you’re still having dinner with him. Oh, and I got you some coffee. It’s in the microwave.”

Marc headed to the microwave, grabbing the coffee cup and his phone. Multiple texts from that morning filled up his messaging app, mostly from Max complaining about him not being at the skate. And then Max realizing that Kristen was also missing. And then the dreaded phone call, which Kristen had answered, followed by another couple of texts telling him to call Max back so they could talk about the situation. There was one from Sid, asking if Marc was feeling okay, and then a text directly after with a quick ‘never mind’.

“My phone got blown up, too.” Kristen said as she walked into the kitchen, her cup pulled close to her chest for warmth.

Marc nodded, yawning. He suddenly felt very vulnerable, a gorgeous woman standing there with only a t-shirt and panties on, and him without a shirt. It was a very domestic image, something that he wasn’t sure he was ready for. Should she have left this morning, instead of buying him coffee? Should he have left for the skate even in his half-asleep state, giving her the hint that he wasn’t ready for a serious relationship?

But that was the thing. He was ready, somehow. For some unfathomable reason he was ready to spend all his time with this girl, he was ready to offer his bed to her so that she wouldn’t have to stress out about trying to find a house. He was ready for all of it, for the press to call them a power couple and for their teammates to chirp them about everything. And seeing her stand there, not minding the silence between them, simply looking out at the snow on the ground and smiling to herself… That was what he wanted every day.

“Trying to put off calling him?” Kristen spoke, turning to him and setting her drink down.

“Honestly, yeah. Thank you for the coffee, really. I’m going to need it today.” He smirked, daring himself to move closer and hold her hand.

“It’s no problem.” A shining smile that made his grin brighter as well.

Marc pulled her towards him, kissing the top of her head. She looked up at him, her smile somehow even brighter. _“Petit soleil.”_ He found himself speaking without thinking, and immediately started blushing, hiding his face by kissing her.

Kristen pulled away from the kiss, a cheeky grin that she probably learned from Max plastered on her face. “You called me that last night, too.”

“It’s, um… It’s a stupid nickname.” Marc tried to play it off.

“It’s not stupid.” Kristen kissed him again. “I know what it means.”

Marc ran his hand through his hair nervously.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed. I really like it.” Kristen touched his face softly. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to. I just think it’s… pretty. It makes me happy.”

He found himself leaning into her hand, finding comfort and confidence in her touch and soft words. “I thought of it the first time I saw you play. You just looked like a, like a _boule de feu._ There was so much passion, it was so fun to see such a little body dart between all these huge guys with no care in the world. It’s like seeing Sid play, only more amazing… and getting to watch you do that for us, on our team, it’s so great.” He paused, trying to decipher the look on her face. Her hand was still on his cheek, her lips slightly parted. She was thinking of something, and he longed to get inside of her head. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to say anything that—”

“Oh, yes. It’s just really nice to hear that.” She kissed him again, slower and deeper this time, enough to make his body move against hers.

It didn’t take long before they were in his bedroom again.

0—0—0

Max was actually on time for their dinner, causing Marc to immediately feel self-conscious. His friend was taking this topic seriously, and with Max that usually meant hour long interrogations and lots of beer. And Marc almost crying.

_“My Flower! Light of my life! How are you this lovely night?”_ Max stood up from his table, yelling across the room to Marc. People looked over, and Marc ducked his head, heading over to Max with a quick wave. He noticed that Sid was joining them, making his anxiety over the topic of discussion that night waver. Unless Max had let him know what was happening, which, knowing Max, wouldn’t be the case, they wouldn’t be talking about his excursion with their teammate that night.

Sid also stood up, nodding happily to him. Marc was going to ask where Geno was, but thought better of it. They never knew who would be listening in, and any mention of the relationship was usually strictly off limits.

“Hey, guys. I’m doing good.” He allowed himself to smile broadly. He was doing better than good, for once.

The men sat down and ordered their food and beer, small talking about the upcoming game and Max and Sid filling him in on what happened during the skate. The mood was light, and Marc’s friends started talking about something that Marc hadn’t been around for, allowing him to think about Kristen.

He had driven her to the hotel on his way to dinner, and the two talked easily and lightly. They discussed a prank against Sid that Marc had been planning for awhile. It was simple, there was no pressure for them to assign a label to what had happened between them. There was a part of Marc that wanted to talk things over with his friends, to see if what he was doing was normal. To see if they thought Kristen actually liked him, or if he was just getting his hopes up too soon.

“Earth to Flower.” Max waved his hand in front of Marc’s face, prompting him to take a long swig of beer and nod his head eagerly. He had no idea what the conversation had turned to. “Sid is wondering who this new girl of yours is.”

Marc silently cursed Max, taking another sip of his drink before putting his hands in front of him on the table. “Um… She’s great, really funny.”

“And they spent the night together.”

“So, that’s why you weren’t there this morning. Talbo wouldn’t tell me the details, just that you were okay.” Sidney smiled, leaning forward. “How was it?”

“It was nice.” Marc felt his face heating up and looked down at the table. “Well, both times were nice.”

Max raised his eyebrows, nodding in approval. Sid held out his fist and Marc fist-bumped him, letting himself feel confident about everything.

“I smoked weed for the first time since high school. I know, it was interesting. We talked for awhile, got to know each other. Then, you know…”

“She answered his phone this morning. She seems like a great gal.” Max smirked at him.

“You should invite her to a game sometime.” Sid said with his trademark enthusiasm. If it meant being able to invite people to his home away from home, he was happy.

Marc nodded, looking around the room. He wanted to change the subject, his confidence waning as he noticed the look on Max’s face. He shook his head as subtly as he could, hoping that Max would get the hint.

“She’s actually been to almost every game this season. Huge hockey fan.”

Sid made a noise of surprise and approval. “Good choice, Flower. I hope it works out for you.”

“Thank you.” Luckily enough, the waitress came by then, and Max proceeded to flirt with her for what felt like hours, forcing the topic of Marc’s secret fling to be over.

It wasn’t until he got home that Max started interrogating him over Facetime.

_“She said you were great, you know. I feel like a proud father.”_ Max was shoving his face full of popcorn, a movie playing in the background.

Although Marc enjoyed talking about Kristen, he had hit the uncertain stage. He was nervous to see her at practice tomorrow, to bring whatever their relationship was into the locker room. He knew a couple of guys that glanced at her while she undressed, and he wasn’t ready to explain why he would be getting pissy about that. It wasn’t a feeling of possession, he just felt like it wasn’t fair. Those were the same guys that said they would never find her attractive, that didn’t appreciate the passion she brought onto the ice. That didn’t spend the majority of their warm up trying to make her laugh because they knew she would play better if she smiled at least four times. It was creepy, strange, and scared Marc like nothing had before.

_“You don’t seem as happy as I thought you’d be.”_ Max was still shoving his face full of food, but now had a concerned look. _“Did something happen?”_

_“I just… I don’t know. I’m doing that thing again, you know, where I overthink things to the point of ruining it.”_ He opened another can of beer. He wasn’t drunk but was still feeling his emotions at 100%. Max would help. He had to let Max help. _“There’s a part of me that’s like ‘okay, it was just a fun night, don’t make things complicated’ and then there’s another part that wants to sit her down and talk about this? I mean, I’m not in love or anything,"_ a complete lie, _"but holy shit, you know? How did I manage to get her in bed so fast?”_

Max laughed. _“Is it possible that she feels the same way about you?”_

_“It was after a really tough game. Maybe it was just her way of dealing with it.”_

_“That might be part of it, but I really do think she likes you. As a friend, maybe more, it doesn’t really matter. You just have to be you.”_

Marc chuckled at that, causing the worried look on his friend’s face to go away.

_“Just, you know, don’t be an asshole for once.”_

Marc laughed again, looking out at the balcony. The smell of her cigarette smoke still lingered. _“I’m really trying my best.”_

_“Just don’t stress out about it, okay? She’s freaking out, too, I can tell. Just… Let it come up naturally. That’s how things end up working out.”_

He nodded. Max always knew what to say. He had turned back to his movie, but Marc could still see the slight hurt that was on his face. Max had broken up with a girl a couple of months before and was trying his best to put on a brave face when it came to love advice. It had been tough for him to learn that there was only so much you could do in relationships before they fell apart.

“We can talk about her, you know. When you’re ready.” Marc switched to English, trying to make the conversation sound less serious.

“I know. Thank you.”

They stopped talking, Marc looking out of his balcony door and Max watching his movie. The muffled sounds of people talking were enough to make the silence seem not so silent. It was like back when they had first started talking, so young and life seeming simple, no broken hearts or aching muscles. But even with those things, Marc was incredibly grateful to have gained a brother.

0—0—0

“Alright, gentlemen. Lady. We’ve got 71, 87, 91 up first. 58 and 4. You ready Flower? Good, because you’re starting. Go out there and kick some ass, black.”

The men whooped and cheered, and Kristen silently started freaking out. She had heard rumours that she would be starting this game against Washington but had chosen to ignore them until now. First line. She’d never been first line.

Schultzy patted her on the back. “You got this.”

She smiled at him but could still feel the anxiety coming up. “Thank you. You, too.”

Her French braids felt too tight, and she played with them self-consciously before catching Marc’s gaze. He had been looking down at the floor for awhile, preparing for the war that would be happening soon, but the care in his eyes was genuine and made her blush.

Sid and Geno were the first ones to stand up and wander into the hall, followed by Schultz. Tanger watched him walk away, then looked at Kristen, a blank expression on his face. They hadn’t talked since the game against Toronto. His time off had made him more relaxed (thanks to some medication, according to Rusty) but he was still withdrawn, and it had been affecting the team. He was arguably their best defenceman when he was good, but could be the death of them like this.

It wasn’t long before most of them were out in the hall, except for Marc and Kristen. She wasn’t sure if it was a game he was playing, trying to see how long she could go before she would get nervous about being late, or if he truly just didn’t want to play. She thought back to a text Max had sent her before warm up.

**Give him some space tonite. Know its hard with u 2 hitting it off ;) poor baby gets nervous.**

She had laughed it off, but it had been hard not to joke around with him while they were getting suited up.

“Need goalie.” Geno poked his head in, staring pointedly at Marc, then turning to her. “And superstar.”

“I’m no superstar. But I guess I’ll join you.” Kristen stood up, nodding to Marc before making her way out of the room. She pulled on her helmet, wiping off a smudge on her visor. The crowd sounded different now that she was first line.

Marc walked up beside her, leaning into her quickly before Max hit him in the pads with his stick.

“Alright, ladies, fuck them up!” Max yelled, jumping in place.

She glanced down the line at Geno, who gave her a thumbs up and a grin, and then they were off.

0—0—0

“What the fuck?” Kristen turned to someone in a striped jersey, throwing her hands in the air and pointing at a Washington sweater. “He’s been fucking tripping me all night!”

She heard a string of aggressive French from Marc beside her. He had happily ‘poke-checked’ said Washington player just before, effectively tripping him and causing him to turn back to the goalie with some choice words. Kristen had hurried over, even before Max was able to, and pushed him away. The ref had ignored the fight up until that point, when he called her for a penalty.

“You retaliated.” The ref was barely paying attention, leading her by the arm like a five-year-old.

“I wouldn’t have fucking retaliated if you called it sooner!”

“Gotta treat you like everyone else.” His response caused her to frown even more, sitting down in the box and sighing. Refs had been briefed on how to treat her ‘situation’, aka being a woman, and she had been met with unfair penalties and a group of men unsure if they were showing favouritism or making the right calls.

She looked down the ice at Marc. He was looking at her as well, mouthing the word _sorry._ Letting a small smile spread across her face, Kristen gazed up at the replay of her telling off the referee, and laughed. Even in her most stressful moments it was hard for her not to find the game utterly exciting and fun. She thought back to when she was just starting to play at the awkward age of twelve, gangly and taller than the rest of the boys on her team. Her parents would always tell her she constantly had a smile on her face, even if the team was losing.

Tanger was passed the puck after the faceoff, and immediately made his way up the ice. She could tell Sid was slightly pissed that he didn’t end up passing to him as they got to the Washington net, immediately taking a half-assed shot on goal before skating off to the bench. Dan gave him a look.

Eventually, her penalty was over, and she got out right as her line got on the ice. Geno flew past her on a breakaway.

“Okay. Do this right.” Kristen muttered to herself as she skated to her spot across from him.

He passed to her from behind the net, and she didn’t let herself stress about what to do. She dodged a Capitals defenceman, then flicked her wrist quickly. The puck flew through the crowd of men in front of the net, aimed directly above the shoulder of the goalie. It hit its mark perfectly, and the red light went off in front of her.

“Fuck yes!” Geno yelled, embracing her in a tight hug behind the net. Sid joined them, along with Schultzy. Kris was on the ice again, but once again made his way directly to the bench.

“Beautiful, Stew!” Geno distracted her from their teammates angst, plopping down beside her and spraying himself with water.

“Thanks, G.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Marc re-watching the goal. She wondered if they would get together again after the game, using the argument that it was superstition now. Sid would be proud.

0—0—0

“And another beautiful goal by Pittsburgh’s new superstar, Kristen Stewart, keeping the game alive for the Penguins and giving Crosby the chance to score with a minute left in OT.”

Sidney whooped as a video of his goal came on the bar TV, his arm around Kristen’s shoulders. “A beauty!”

“Sid, she saving grace. Keep her on line.” Geno sipped his beer, nodding at his linemates.

“I’ll definitely let Dan know that this is working out. You’ve made your mark.”

Kristen felt her face heating up after the compliment from her captain. The team had gone out for celebratory drinks after the game, and it felt great to watch the guys joke around. Tanger conveniently had somewhere to be that night, and Max had had some words for him in French out in the hallway. She chose to ignore him, though, allowing herself to laugh with her friends.

Marc and Max were watching some of the rookies play pool. She gave him a slightly flirty smile when he finally looked her way, and he blushed and looked around before smiling back. It was then that she heard His name on the TV.

“And in other NHL news, Vancouver Canucks wonder boy comes forward with some shocking news tonight.”

Kristen ducked her head, trying to block his name out of her ears.

“… has put out a statement on social media about his substance abuse problems. The 25-year-old will be taking a break for three months to seek out rehabilitation. This statement comes almost exactly a year and a half after ex-teammate, Stewart, announced her own struggles with drugs and alcohol, prompting the league to look into substance abuse within the game.”

Everyone looked away from the TV, and some eyes fell on her. Geno waved at the bartender as the host droned on about her personal life.

“Hey! Turn TV down. We trying to celebrate.” The bartender nodded quickly, and Geno turned back to her. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s okay.” Kristen tried her best to replace her frown with a comforting smile, but instead fell into a grimace. “I’m going outside for a sec.”

Sid and Geno nodded, looking at each other and seeming to speak through telekinesis. Kristen grabbed her jacket, throwing it over the almost-threadbare Zeppelin t-shirt she had put on after the game.

She lit a cigarette outside, absent-mindedly playing with her ponytail. People walked by and eyed her, some in Penguins jerseys gave her a thumbs-up. She wondered how many of those people knew about her life, how many of them took the time to look into the work she had done with minor leagues to help against substance abuse, how many of them cared enough to fact check rumours. If that mattered to them at all, even. Or if they just liked her because she was a good, fun player.

“I got you this.”

Looking up from the sidewalk, she saw Marc holding a can of ginger ale.

“They didn’t want me to bring it outside, but I said it was for our first star of the night. Congrats on that, by the way.”

Kristen gladly accepted the drink. “You didn’t have to.”

Marc shrugged, looking around at the busy street. “I, uh… I was wondering if you wanted to spend the night again.” He quickly raised his eyebrows, holding his hands out. “Not like that, if you don’t want to. I just figured you might not want to be alone. Max also offered.”

A wave of happiness came over her. Things weren’t weird between them, they didn’t have to be.

“I think I should stay away from the hotel room tonight. Might end up watching some more sports gossip.” She took a drag from her cigarette, angling her mouth so that the smoke didn’t blow towards him. “So, yes. I’d like that.”

“Awesome.” Marc was grinning, still looking out at the lights of the city. Kristen always forgot that there were guys that had only ever known Pittsburgh and its quirks, that they could never imagine anything else. She had always felt that way about Vancouver.

“I’m sorry about leaving you guys hanging. I’m just so done with that bullshit. Geno’s probably chewing someone out for it right now.”

“Of course, he is.” He turned his head to her, his gaze moving down to her lips. “You, uh, looked great out there, by the way. Even during that argument with the ref.”

“That was totally your fault, just so you know.” Kristen joked, elbowing him in the arm. “I had to protect my goalie!”

“We both know that’s Talbo’s job.”

The two laughed and she put out her cigarette. There was a part of her that wanted to leave then and there, to curl up in his arms and forget about the shit that was bringing her down. But she knew the guys would suspect something, and there was nothing saying that she couldn’t do that later.

So, they tried their best to stroll back inside casually, going back to their separate groups.

“Stew! I’m argue with him for you. Turn down TV.” Geno pointed at the TV as Kristen sat down.

“Thank you, G. I really appreciate it.” She rubbed his shoulder.

Sid smiled at them, mostly looking at Geno. She had forgotten about what Max had told her, simply because she knew she wasn’t supposed to know, but could now see the pure love that was in Sid’s eyes. She longed to ask them how they’d dealt with the possible drama for so long, how they were okay with nobody knowing. What they would do if anyone found out.

It was a couple hours later when the team finally embarked, Marc throwing Kristen his keys, using the excuse that the two beers he had had was enough to need a DD. Kristen had shrugged, waving goodbye to the rest of the guys.

“Do you really trust me with your car?” She said as she put the keys in the ignition, waiting for him to put on his seatbelt.

“Yeah, yeah totally.” Marc paused, looking between her and the steering wheel for a moment.

Kristen raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her seat. “Totally?”

He looked at her, then sighed. “I trust you to drive it around the block until everyone’s gone.”

0—0—0

“Okay… worst day of your life.”

“Holy shit, Marc.”

Marc gave her an evil grin, shoving his mouth full of food so he wouldn’t have to respond.

“You actually want to know?”

He nodded.

Kristen sat back in her chair, closing her eyes. The two were asking each other questions they felt like they should know the answers to, beginning with silly, meaningless stuff. She was the one who had started the deeper conversations, looking slightly disappointed that he seemed to have no childhood trauma to talk about.

“You don’t have to tell me. Make something up.” He said as he swallowed, offering her some of his salad.

“No, no. It’s okay.” She gratefully took the small plate, toying with her fork as she thought. “Okay, worst day. Like, ever? Or recently?”

“Either.”

Marc was grateful that they had chosen to eat at home when he saw the look on her face. She was an open book, but the last thing he wanted was to embarrass her in public.

“Okay, well, I was thirteen. Things hadn’t been great with my parents, I was going through all that puberty shit and I just generally didn’t talk to them anymore, and I decided that I was going to run away and like, live on the streets, I guess? I didn’t really think it through.”

“As most thirteen-year-olds don’t.”

She laughed. “Yeah, true. Anyway, it was after school. One of my friends, Dallas, wanted to come with me. Her mom had cancer and her life was way more of a mess than mine, so it makes sense. So, we’re all packed up and ready to go, and we start walking, and she chickens out last minute. She doesn’t want to get into trouble, we had no money, all these excuses, right? And I told her to fuck off. I’ve never seen someone so hurt.” Her voice got heavier with the weight of what she was remembering. “And while I was walking alone, I started thinking about how much she was going through, and how little I had to complain about. And my feet start hurting and my parents keep calling my cellphone and I start crying. I made it probably four blocks before I turned around and went back home.”

Marc put his hand on hers. “That’s not too bad. You were just upset, anyone would’ve reacted like that. Maybe not at thirteen, but still.”

“God, it was the worst, though. Like, terrible foreshadowing for what my life was going to be like. I’ve felt like I’ve been walking alone my whole life, you know? And it’s always been my fault.”

She was smiling, but it still felt like his heart was breaking. Out of everyone in the world, he felt like she was the one person who deserved happiness the most.

“After that I started going to therapy. They tried to diagnose me with all this shit, but I think I’ve always just been a little melancholy.” Kristen laughed. “So, yeah. Worst day. Other than when Rick died. Having to watch Kevin go through that…”

“I can’t imagine.” He really couldn’t. Marc had generally always been a happy person, he had his bouts with sadness but had always known a way to make it better, or always had someone around that could help him. From what she’d told him, Kristen had been lacking any sort of support for most of her life. “Hey, I’m here for you. You know that, right? Same with anyone on the team.”

Her eyes watered up, and she shoved some salad into her mouth for an excuse to look away from him. “Yeah. Thank you.”

He had to stop himself from touching her face or pulling her into his lap. “So, best day?”

“So far... Today.” She smirked. “Right now.”

Marc couldn’t help but agree.


	7. Like a Bad Girl Should

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late upload, life is hectic and hard. but hey, at least we have fanfics about cute boys am i right  
> also lots of angst and drama in this one so hope you're ready for that!

**Do you believe the Canucks drove you to using substances?**

Kristen looked at the text. It was apparently from a local reporter, but how they would’ve gotten her number she had no idea. It was such a specific question, a frightening question. She cursed Him for saying what he did. Now she would never be able to escape this line of questioning.

**Addiction is a common problem within North America. It would be irresponsible for me to say that where a person lives or works are what causes them to become addicts, because it is different for everyone. Vancouver is a beautiful place, and I feel very lucky to have been able to live there for the time that I did.**

She sighed, a long and tired sigh, before hitting send. Crisis management had become her specialty.

“They still bugging you?” Marc walked into the eating area of the locker room, grabbing an apple.

“’Bugging’ is the wrong word. I would use the term harassment, but that’s probably too far.”

“You should talk to Dan about this. Or someone.” He bit into the apple, leaning against the counter.

They were some of the last ones still in the arena after practice. Kristen was putting off going back to the hotel to pack.

“It’s just some middle-aged lady looking for a bitchy response. They’ll give up soon.” _I hope,_ she added in her head.

He walked toward her, putting his hand on top of hers. Kristen relaxed her shoulders. They had been spending almost every night together since the game against Washington, sneaking into each other’s rooms when they were on the road. Not every night involved sex, but that was still a major part of their relationship.

“Thank you.” She looked up at him. “I would’ve gone crazy by now without… this.”

Marc glanced at their hands, obviously thinking about how she had worded their relationship. This.

Max walked into the room, and Marc pulled his hand away, walking over to the fridge and grabbing some Gatorade. Max smirked at the two of them.

“Did I come at a bad time?”

“No!” They both exclaimed a little too fast.

“Hah. Okay. Well, Captain’s wondering if you guys are interested in a late lunch. Those were his words, not mine. It’s never too late for lunch.”

Kristen looked to Marc for an answer. They had been planning to go to her hotel together for some ‘packing’ and a simple dinner. But she knew Marc had a hard time saying no to his best friend, simply because in his eyes Max deserved the world and more.

_“Oui. Mais faites vite, nous avons ... Un engagement préalable.”_ Marc spoke quickly, a small smirk on his face as he glanced at Kristen.

_“Oui, oui.”_

“I would appreciate it if I could understand what you were saying about me.”

“I thought you were learning French, _mon amie.”_ Max patted her on the shoulder, then turned to Marc. _“Peut-être faire de la place pour quelques temps d'étude dans votre ... engagement.”_

Marc flipped him off, watching him walk out of the room before kissing Kristen on the forehead tentatively. “Is that okay?”

“Who wouldn’t want to go to lunch with those guys?”

“I can name a couple people.”

0—0—0

Marc couldn’t keep his gaze away from her cellphone. It had been going off constantly throughout the night, and had been easier to ignore when they were… busy. Now that she was sleeping beside him, her grip on his torso tight, it was the only light in the room.

He knew she was trying to ignore the fact that they would be going to Vancouver in two days. That she would have to look some men in the eyes that had said terrible things about her. The only thing that made it easier was that He (Marc had noticed how she avoided his name and jumped on board for her benefit) wouldn’t be there.

Marc reached over to his bedside table as slowly as he could, barely jostling Kristen as he grabbed the TV remote. Sportsnet was on, covering some football news that Marc couldn’t care less about. He turned the volume off, opting for subtitles.

There was still a part of him that came out every night, every time they were sharing a bed, or a couch, or a countertop… that told him what he was doing was wrong. Risking her career again because he had a schoolboy crush. But that part of him always went away when they were driving to practice the next morning, or getting dinner, or smiling at each other from overtop of airplane seats. When he was watching her play and couldn’t stop the grin from plastering itself on his face. When they bumped helmets after a win and his heart skipped a beat at the joy in her face.

He thought about Sid and Geno, how lucky they were to be working with the love of their lives everyday. They had no problems keeping their relationship quiet, not only for Sid’s career but also Geno’s ability to return home. Things worked for them. They played for each other out on the ice, it was the most public place they could show off their relationship. Maybe that could work for him and Kristen?

As soon as he thought her name, she moved her head up to look at him sleepily.

“Everything okay?”

“Yes. Go back to sleep, _mon petit soleil._ We have a big day tomorrow.”

She smiled when she heard the pet name, something that always made her feel safe. With a nod, she had settled back on his chest, snoring quietly.

Max had told him not to push things, to let things happen naturally. It was time for him to truly practice that.

0—0—0

“Is hard?”

Geno was looking up from his game of Angry Birds to question her. They were on their way to Vancouver.

“Kind of, yeah. Well, not just kind of.”

“Will be okay. I protect you.” He patted her knee, then turned back to his game.

“How bad do you think it’ll be?” The two usually didn’t talk on flights, instead opting for the comfort of each other’s presence. Kristen needed his objectivity, though.

He paused his game, looking up at the ceiling, thinking. “May be bad. Is not like Caps or Flyers, though. Will be okay.” He repeated, making eye contact and gesturing around the plane. “We protect you.”

Sid walked by, on his way back from the bathroom, and Geno touched his arm softly. It was subtle enough that nobody would ever notice. Kristen looked away before either of them could notice that she’d seen and leaned her head on Geno’s shoulder, a smile on her face for the rest of the flight.

0—0—0

The team arrived in Vancouver early, allowing them to practice in the arena early the next morning. Kristen had been quiet for most of their time there, trying her hardest to not let anyone see the nerves that were radiating out of her. She had known she would be back there again, but it felt too soon, like meeting up with an ex right after splitting up. There were unresolved feelings and lots of pressure for her to be okay.

She walked through the familiar hallways, hallways that she would pace through while having anxiety attacks and rough nights. Her head was down, trying not to pause and look at the murals surrounding her.

It wasn’t until she saw the locker room that she realized she had been holding her breath. Voices echoed out into the hall. Voices of men that she had spent some of her best and worst moments with. Her first NHL locker room. The memories of her first walk through the halls, her first time seeing those doors and doing the same thing she was now, holding her breath and staring.

The visitor’s room was just down the hall, but there was a force holding her where she was. Nostalgia, a sense of belonging. Unresolved emotions and unresolved, well, everything.

“You coming?”

The voice made her jump. Sid was standing beside her, looking at her curiously.

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.”

“Hey, don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how it feels.” He reached his hand out to touch her arm, but pulled it away. “I can make up an excuse for why you’re late, if you want to just wander for a bit.”

His voice was careful, unsure. Kristen once again remembered that there were players around her that had only known the Penguins, or the Canucks, or wherever they played. They hadn’t had to know what it was like to uproot anything, even if the uprooting was what they needed.

“I’ll be okay. Thank you, though. It’s just fucking… weird. Different.”

Sid nodded, playing with a thread on his sweater. “I bet.” He glanced at the locker room, then back at her with a playful smile. “Our locker room is better.” It wasn’t a question.

“It definitely is.” She smiled back, then sighed. “Okay, let’s go do this.”

0—0—0

_“Fuck off!”_

Max yelled at Marc, who had just stopped yet another shot from him. It was the monthly Moustache Boy shootout. Max, Tanger, and Kristen were the last men standing, and Max did not want to lose. It wasn’t that he couldn’t grow some lip hair, it was the idea of not having the choice to shave it.

_“Good try, fuckface!”_ Marc shouted back as he skated away, laughing.

Marc had seemed happier lately, something that immediately made Max happy. Flower was his best friend, his brother, and it had royally sucked having to watch him suffer through a dry spell. It had been even worse considering Sid and Geno’s heartfelt relationship was slapping him in the face every day. Not that their relationship was a bad thing, of course, but the knowledge of their love had made both him and Marc feel even more single than usual.

Tanger took a shot on net, scoring solely because Marc felt bad for him. Max could recognize his version of pity from a mile away.

“Just you and me, hey, Stew?”

“Ah, another fuckface, eh?” Marc called.

Kristen glared at him jokingly, rolling her shoulders back and skating towards center ice. There was excitement in Max’s chest. It was always a treat getting to see the two of them go head-to-head, like a game of chicken. Which one of them would back down first? Would they back down at all?

She pointed her stick at Marc, mouthing some words that Max didn’t get before she made her way down the ice. She was like a firecracker. Max had heard the comparison numerous times from his friend, but it always rung true when she was doing this.

She was taking her time, dancing back and forth and Marc followed her every move. The chemistry was palpable, and Max wondered how nobody else had guessed they were seeing each other.

Finally, Kristen took her shot, sending it above Marc’s glove and into the corner of the net.

“Who’s the fuckface now?” She laughed and pushed him jokingly, and the smile on his face said it all.

Flower was in love with her, Max knew that much. And now he had to keep his lip hair for another month.

0—0—0

“Would you be interested in dinner tonight?” Marc asked, sounding calmer than he felt.

The words 'date' and 'dating' hadn’t come up in conversation yet, purely because Max had told him not to bring them up. It should be Kristen’s call, he had said. Marc knew what his feelings towards her were, but she had yet to mention anything. He knew that she had fun with him and that she enjoyed spending time with him, but that was it.

“I was actually just going to ask. There’s a place I used to go to a lot, I was wondering if it was still there. It’s not really dinner, but…” She smiled up at him, then back down to finish lacing up her Converse.

“That sounds better than dinner.” He couldn’t keep his eyes off her, hoping that the remaining guys in the room didn’t notice the longing in his eyes. He could feel Tanger’s eyes on them but chalked it up to some more angst. 

“Okay, good to go.” Kristen jumped up, smile still on her face. She touched his arm softly, noticing the way he was looking at her. “You good?”

Marc nodded, but she still looked concerned. He wanted to tell her how badly he wanted to pull her somewhere private, kiss and touch her. How much he longed for her to tell him that she felt the same way.

_“Get a room, fuck.”_

They both turned to look at Kris, who had pulled on his jacket and turned away from them. Kristen frowned, looking to Marc for an explanation.

_“You heard me.”_

He felt fear and anger rise up in his stomach but chose to smile. “Just an inside joke. _You need to stop.”_ The smile remained on his face, but he made sure that Kris got the message.

Kris shrugged, waving at them with fake care as he walked out of the room.

He didn’t realize he was still looking at Kris’s locker until Kristen cleared her throat, putting her hand back on his arm. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry. Let’s get going.”

The car ride to the restaurant cleared Marc’s head, listening to Kristen talk about her memories in the city. It was amazing, imagining her living her life there. The way that she talked about it, it almost seemed like she had been incredibly happy there, if not for the edge in her voice as they drove past certain streets, or the way she avoided names of people that she had met here or there. She was comfortable there, even with the bad memories.

It didn’t take long before she pointed to an empty parking spot, laughing as he tried to parallel park the rental car perfectly.

“That’s good enough,” she giggled, “It’s just right here.” She was pointing to a café, like the one they had sat at the day Max set them up. “Like I said, I know it’s not dinner, but they do have some muffins and stuff.”

Marc grabbed her hand, his eyes moving to her. “It looks great.” He rubbed his thumb against hers.

She moved closer to him, her lips parting slightly as she pulled her hand away and put it on his thigh. “It would be bad if someone saw us like this, right? Someone could find out…” Her hand slid higher up his leg, stopping just before his breath hitched.

_“You’re evil.”_

With a smirk that made his heart flutter, she placed her hand back in his. “Save the French for later. I like having no idea what you’re saying.” She winked, then opened the door, hopping out.

The café was lit with fairy lights, and the warmth that flooded in made the snow seem far away. The tables were wooden, similar to the café back home. Marc thought about how quickly he had ducked his head when he saw her that day, how obsessed he had become with his table. Now he was standing beside her, motioning for her to order for him. He was incredibly lucky.

Kristen chose a table beside the window, holding her mug of tea close to her. “It didn’t snow much when I was here. It usually doesn’t, apparently.”

Marc took a sip of his coffee (how had she known exactly what he wanted?) and looked outside. “Hockey with no snow? How wrong.”

“I know, it’s crazy.”

They watched the snow fall outside for a bit, enjoying their drinks and being somewhere together. Marc had thought of them going out the whole practice, realizing that the only times they had truly gone out were with other teammates. The silence and lack of boyish jokes were nice. He could tell that Kristen was feeling homesick, whether it was for her real home or Pittsburgh he couldn’t tell. He hoped it was for Pittsburgh, having spent a large portion of his life there.

“Nice choice letting Letang get that goal, by the way.” Kristen spoke up.

“He’s a bastard.” Marc was shocked by his honesty and the anger that was gearing up inside of him. He felt protective over her. “He never would’ve shut up about it.”

She shrugged. “He has a right to be a little pissy.”

“It’s more than a little.”

“Yeah, I just didn’t want to be the one to say it.” Kristen set her mug down, leaning back in the chair. “Also, pretty nice goal by myself.”

Marc laughed, looking at her with fake surprise. “Goal? You mean that _misérable_ shot I let in so that you wouldn’t have to grow a moustache?”

“We all know I would rock a moustache.” She kicked him under the table. “I think I’ve scored on you every shootout we’ve done.”

“How do you know I’m not just giving them to you?”

“Well, I guess you are sleeping with me.” Another playful smirk that made his heart go wild. He brought his mug up to his face to hide a blush.

They joked until both of their drinks were long since empty, until the light snow that had been covering the sidewalks was enough for both of them to wonder if they’d ever get out of the parking spot. Kristen got up to put their mugs in a bin, and he noticed that her light sweater (Penguins sweater, turned inside out so they wouldn’t get harassed) wouldn’t be enough for the cold outside. He could almost hear Max in his head telling him to do the gentlemanly thing.

Marc pulled off his jacket and stopped her before they went out the door. “Here.”

She stood for a minute, looking at the jacket and then him, before biting her lip and smiling. “Thank you, kind sir.”

It wasn’t until they got in the car that she let him know her true thoughts.

“You’re so getting laid tonight.”

0—0—0

She avoided everyone the day of the game. She had warned Marc the night before that she would need time alone for most of the day to be ready for what was going to happen.

The morning skate was a blur. Getting changed was a blur. Getting on the city bus and going out to the beach, the sand frozen beneath her feet, was a blur. The cold air brought her back to reality, and she took a long sigh before sitting down on a bench. She had never felt this nervous to play a game before.

Both Sid and Geno had texted her the night before, urging her to take all of the time she needed before the game. Sid had also tried to remind her that it was just another game, the colour of the jerseys meant nothing. She knew he didn’t truly believe it, but it was nice to hear anyway.

A group of teenagers walked by, laughing and joking. One of them stopped to look at her, and her shoulders tensed at their presence.

“Hey! You’re Stewart, right?” The young girl walked closer to her, a smile spreading across her face as she realized she was correct. “You’re amazing!”

Kristen immediately felt bad for assuming the worst, and stood up, smiling back. “Thank you.”

“Can I get you to sign my jersey tonight? If I see you?”

Kristen paused, unsure. “Your Canucks jersey?”

“Yeah! If it’s not too much trouble. You were always my favourite. I play hockey, too, but I don’t think I could handle all of the huge guys.”

With a laugh, she nodded. “Yeah, it’s tough. But you get used to it eventually. Us little guys can squeeze around them.”

The girl giggled, then looked back to her group of friends, who were fooling around by the water. “I should get back.”

“Hey, come by the back after the game. I’ll tell them to look for a…”

“Sarah.”

“Sarah. Okay. I’ll meet you there. Have a good night, okay?”

“You, too. Thank you so much!”

And with that, she was running off to her friends, a larger smile than Kristen had ever seen on her face. The nerves had gone away, replaced by some form of hope. Not everyone was out to get her.

0—0—0

Kristen had zoned out throughout Dan’s peptalk, her eyes on the center of the room. Marc sighed, rolling his shoulders and glancing at Max. He was also watching Kristen, an uncertain look on his face.

_“Think she’s gonna get sick?”_ Max was still looking at her, but the question was obviously directed to him.

_“Doubt it. Might pass out, though. I know I would.”_ Marc sighed again. The waiting was killing him, and this was just another game for him.

“Okay, boys, let’s get out there.” Sid walked back into the room from the hallway.

“Uh, Cap, I think you mean boys and lady.” Max stood up with another trademark smirk.

“If she’s ready, she’ll come. Just focus on you.” Sid looked at him seriously, and Max stopped smiling and looked at the floor, nodding as he walked out for warmups.

The rest of the men followed, leaving Marc and Kristen in the room. He wanted to say something, to show her he could help her under pressure, but the look on her face told him that wasn’t what she needed. He stood up, glancing at her as he walked out and made his way onto the ice.

The crowd was rowdy but usual for how Vancouver was, obviously waiting for Kristen to come out. He wasn’t sure if it would be a warm welcome, considering the lack of signs with her name on them.

He did a loop around the net, trying to get his mind off of her. Max skated by, pushing his shoulder, but Marc didn’t join in.

“She’ll be okay, Flower. Just focus on the game, that will help her the most. Treat it like we’re playing, uh… The Avs, or something.”

Marc nodded, unable to deny Max’s logic, and pushed him back.

Kristen didn’t come out for most of the warmup. She usually had Crosby-like passion and superstitions, one of which involved a very specific end-of-warmup routine. She would tap every guy in order of their jersey numbers, something that she had started at the beginning of the season. She knew exactly where everyone ended up by the end of warmups, and always managed to catch everyone before they went off the ice. It was things like that that made Marc happy to have her around.

It wasn’t until right before the end, when Marc had tried to accept that she probably wouldn’t even be playing the game, that he heard noise coming from the side of the arena. He glanced over from where he was stretching, assuming a Vancouver player had done something, when he saw her slowly walking out, head down. The noise was a mix of cheers and boo’s, causing her to finally look up from her skates. She paused before the bench, looking up at the crowd, the banners hanging from the ceiling. He could see her taking a deep breath as she looked over at the Vancouver side, then letting it out as she looked over at her new team. Then, without anymore hesitation, she stepped onto the ice, the cheers and jeers getting louder as she skated around their half of the ice. Marc got up and skated over to the net, getting ready for her shots on goal.

“Good.” He heard Geno say as he skated past, patting her on the head.

After a couple of shots on goal, Kristen skated up to him. “We’re going to fucking bury them, okay? You’ll be bored sitting over here by yourself.” With that, she tapped him on the back. How she’d already gotten to his number he had no idea.

0—0—0

Dan had decided to keep her on the first line, which meant an awkward nod with Burrows before the puck drop.

“Good to see you back.” He spoke quietly, as if he was afraid of someone hearing. He did look up at Ryan before saying it.

“Thank you.” She nodded again, leaning so that her elbows were on her knees. He seemed like he wanted to say more, but closed his mouth and turned to the ref, who smiled at her. She smiled back, recognizing him from her days there, and got ready for the fun to begin.

The first half of the period went by fast, with Kristen getting little ice time and everyone avoiding her when she did. There were the usual chirps between players, but nothing as bad as she had imagined. With the only person she truly wanted to avoid gone, it was easier to keep her head up.

True to her word, the Pens had kept the puck in the offensive end, leaving Marc to jump in place and stretch. He would occasionally look over at the bench and wave, laughing when the Vancouver players glared at him.

Eventually, Kristen got the pat on the back and jumped over the boards, followed by Sid and Geno. The puck immediately found its way onto her stick, and she flipped it up to Sid, who brought it across the blue line and danced around Bieksa. Geno called to him, and the two passed back and forth, taunting the Canucks defence, before Sid passed to her. She felt herself freeze up for a second. She was thinking too hard, trying to decipher the look in Kevin’s face as he skated towards her. At the last minute, she ducked out of the way, and he flew into the boards, leaving her to take a shot that went right through Luongo’s five hole.

She was suddenly enveloped in a bear hug from her linemates and Schultzy.

“Fuckin’ right, Stew!” Geno gave her a noogie over her helmet.

“Fucking beauty!”

Kristen couldn’t help the smile that was on her face, and the confidence boost caused her to wave at Kesler on their way back to the bench. “Nice goal for a girl, hey?” she called over her shoulder.

“What’s that about?” Sid turned to her as they sat down.

“Something he said before I left. We need to crush this, okay?”

“We will.” The signature Crosby smile brought her confidence up even higher.

0—0—0

“It’s just great to be back. This is a beautiful city, and I always feel honoured when I get the chance to come here again.”

Kristen nodded at the interviewer, trying to ignore the camera in her face and the sweat dripping down her back.

“Have you talked with any of your old teammates during your time here?”

She attempted to keep the smile on her face. Obviously, the question was about Him. “I, uh, honestly just haven’t had time. But there are definitely some people I’d like to catch up with.”

“Perfect. That was Kristen Stewart of the Pittsburgh Penguins in her homecoming game against the Canucks.”

The camera light turned off and Kristen wiped her face with her towel.

“Thank you for that, Kristen. Good luck with the rest of the game.” The woman gave her a smile that was laced with disinterest.

“Yeah.” She turned away, heading back to the safety of the locker room. Her heart was beating fast. She had never enjoyed interviews, the pressure of being exactly what people wanted her to be. And the intermission interviews were worse, distracting and annoying.

“She’s a cute one, hey?” Max called as Kristen walked back into the room.

She shrugged. “I think she likes men a lot more than me.”

Marc chuckled, and Kristen longed to sit beside him, to talk about anything to distract her. Instead, she sat in her spot beside Schultzy, letting him hand her a Gatorade.

“I remember my first interview here. Went about the same.” He grinned.

“Oh, shit.” She looked across the room at Geno. “I’m as socially awkward as Schultzy.”

0—0—0

Marc leaned against the crossbar, comfortable enough to straighten his body out and relax his shoulders. Once again, the Pens were always in the offensive, the Canucks had only had ten shots on goal in the game so far. Most of that was because of Kristen, who had taken it upon herself to do almost everyone’s job and take all of the hits. The smile on her face told everyone she was okay with it though, and, if it wasn’t for Luongo, Pittsburgh would’ve been up 7-0.

Eventually, the Canucks iced the puck and there was a faceoff in his end. Marc got back in position, watching Tanger take his time getting off the bench. He made his way over to the net, stopping in front of Marc.

_“They’re gonna try something next time she’s on the ice. Kesler’s pissed off.”_

Marc frowned. _“Shouldn’t you tell her that?”_

_“It’s gonna involve you. Just be ready.”_

With that, he was ready for the faceoff, leaving Marc to wonder what was going to happen, and how Tanger had known about it.

It was awhile before Kristen got back on the ice. Marc felt his stomach twinge as she jumped over the boards, nervous for her. And for himself. He knew that Geno would protect her, his passion for protection had extended itself from Sid to her.

Kesler jumped out the same time that she did, eyeing her as she made her way up to Luongo. He was hanging back, letting her take a shot before grabbing the puck from the corner of the ice and making his way back up to Marc.

Marc stopped his wrist shot easily, but Kesler hadn’t seemed interested in scoring. Instead, he skated right up to him.

“I see you like our leftovers, hey?”

The puck was still in play, causing Marc to attempt to keep his attention on the Canucks player taking another shot on net.

“And you fuck her good, right? You think nobody notices how you two look at each other.”

Marc gave him a shove, but Ryan kept himself in the crease.

“What? Does that bother you, Flower?”

Eventually, Marc was able to stop the puck underneath his glove, the ref blowing the whistle. He held onto the puck, standing up and looking at Ryan. “Fuck off.”

“Oh! Brave words, hey?”

“Okay, boys, break it up.” The ref held out his hand for the puck, and Marc handed it to him.

Max had somehow skated up to them without Marc noticing and was up close to Ryan in a heartbeat. “Leave.”

“Oh, and a boyfriend, too! How nice for you, hey?”

Ryan’s chirps were immature, but Marc still felt anger rise in his throat. Max was shaking his head at him. However, Marc still felt the need to give Kesler another shove. It was then that Kesler finally shoved him back, the Canucks coach yelling at him to let it go.

“Leave him the fuck alone!” Kristen had come up as well, pulling Kesler by the shirt collar to look at her. “Grow the fuck up, Ryan.”

“He knows, I hope you realize that. Your little friend shot him a text.”

There was a look of fear on her face, almost immediately replaced with anger. “This isn’t your business.” She jerked him forward by the collar. “You want to deal with this, let’s fucking go. Just us.”

Marc looked at Tanger, who was hanging back. _“What the fuck did you say?”_ He called to him. Tanger looked down at the ice.

Kristen threw her stick down at something Ryan had said. “What, too afraid to hit a girl?”

The ref moved between them. “Let this go. We have a game to play.”

“This guy’s too scared to go! He thinks I’m gonna knock him senseless, don’t you?”

Marc shook his head at her, trying his best not to jump in. Max was beside him, muttering French at nobody in particular.

“Shut the fuck up. You think I’m that much of a bad guy? I’m just trying to warn your little boyfriend to watch his fucking back.” Ryan was close to her know, his breath steaming up her visor.

“Hit me.”

Ryan shrugged, and Marc forced himself to close his eyes as he swung towards her. Max yelled something, and he heard the crowd cheer, and he kept his eyes closed. He hated himself for not doing anything, but he knew there would be questions if he did.

It wasn’t until the cheering got louder that he opened his eyes, seeing the two swing at each other with reckless abandon. Kristen was holding her own, thank god, but her face was bloody, and she was favouring her right knee as she leaned in for a punch. Ryan dodged it and grabbed her jersey, pulling her down to the ice. Her head hit the ice, luckily being saved by a stray glove that happened to be right where the back of her skull was. He kept swinging at her, Kristen being in a position that didn’t let her hit back at all. It was when his fist hit her eye in a way that made Marc cringe that he couldn’t hold it in any longer.

Somehow, his gloves and helmet had come off, and he was pulling Ryan off her. Ryan started protesting and chirping, but Marc didn’t hear any of it. He leaned in, punching Ryan hard in the jaw. It wasn’t until he felt himself holding the other man up that he realized what he’d just done.

He kept his grip on Ryan, unsure if he should lay him down or not. Kristen was still on the ice, her eyes closed and her nose bleeding profusely. There was a crowd around them, and paramedics being led by refs heading towards them.

“Marc, let him go. You have to go.” Max’s hand was on his shoulder.

Suddenly, he snapped again, handing Ryan’s unconscious body to a paramedic before skating over to Tanger. _“What the fuck did you tell him? Why would you tell him?”_ He felt tears, from the stress and shock, fill up his eyes. _“This is all on you, you know that?”_

Kris kept his gaze down.

He felt a hand on his back, guiding him to the bench and eventually down the runway and back to the locker room.

Marc looked up from where he had somehow ended up sitting to see Max in front of him.

“Dude,” was all he said.

“Fuck. _Fuck. He warned me about it, too, the fucking asshole.”_ The tears had finally started falling, but Marc couldn’t find the energy to wipe them away. _“Fuck.”_

Max got down on his knees in front of him, beginning to undo Marc’s pads.

_“Shouldn’t you be out there?”_ Marc tried to push his hands away but got distracted by his swollen knuckle. _“Shit.”_

_“I said something… not great to the ref. I’m out for the rest of the period. You’re out for the rest of the game.”_ He continued to take off Marc’s pads, then started on his skates. _“You always said you wanted to fight. Didn’t know you had it in you.”_

Max’s joke fell through. Marc started crying, a hard, ugly cry, from frustration or shock or something. It felt terrible, and the images of Kristen laying bloody and grimacing on the ice wouldn’t leave his head. There had been a lot of blood. Dripping red on white.

He caught sight of some red on his jersey. Max noticed and waved his hand in front of his face. _“Hey. It’s okay.”_

_“Is she okay?”_

Max turned his attention back to the skates. “I… I don’t know, Flower. I think so.”

The switch to English confused Marc, unable to translate in his state. He sat in silence as his friend continued to help him change, then guided him to the showers.

_“I’m sorry, but I’m not helping you with this part.”_

Marc managed to laugh, obviously relieving the stress from Max.

_“I’m just right outside, though, okay?”_

Marc nodded, and let the water rush over him.


	8. Wild is The Wind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the mystery man will be revealed next chapter! who's ready for that?

Kristen opened her eyes to a flashlight in her face and intense pain in her mouth.

“Fuck.” She tried to say, but there was something in her mouth, poking at her tongue. Ow.

“I’ll just be a second, everything’s okay. Can you tell me your name?” A man was speaking to her, finally taking his hand out of her mouth.

“Kristen Stewart. The last thing I remember was playing a game against the Vancouver Canucks in Vancouver. We had fifteen minutes left in the period. I got in a fight with Ryan Kesler.” She was used to the concussion questions. Her first fight had left her unconscious but, luckily, with no damage.

“Very good.” The man checked her pupils. “Are you feeling nauseous at all?”

“Nope. Face is fucking killing, though.” She reached up to touch her eye, but was stopped by a nurse.

“You’re going to be quite swollen, especially your tongue and cheekbone area. You also lost a tooth, we can replace it for you if you wish.”

“My tongue? Which tooth?” Kristen was coming back to reality, still in pain but feeling less drowsy.

“You managed to bite your tongue when you got thrown into the ice. It’s very minor. As for your tooth, it’s nothing in the front, don’t worry.”

“I’m sure I can survive without it.” She slowly sat up with the help of a nurse. “How long was I out?”

“About ten minutes. You got hit in the jaw, it’s common to pass out after that. Your friend actually did the same thing to Kesler afterwards.” The doctor laughed.

“My friend?”

“Fleury.”

“Oh my god.” Kristen started to stand up, then looked to the nurse for approval. She nodded, and Kristen frowned as her knee almost buckled under her. “Is this okay?"

“You may have to talk to your club about that.” The doctor had already started cleaning up, obviously done with the conversation. Kristen remembered her first fight in Vancouver again, how rude they had been that time, as well.

“Okay. Well, thank you.” She walked out of the room, grabbing an ice pack from the nurse and pressing it to her face.

Max was standing in the hallway, a worried look on his face as he stared at the Canucks logo painted on the wall.

“Max?”

His head whipped around to look at her. He was still in his gear, a Pens cap on backwards. He ran towards her, pulling her in for a hug. “That was an amazing fight. I was so worried.”

“I’m okay, just bit my tongue and lost a tooth. Fucked my knee up a bit, too.”

“And that.” Max poked at her swollen cheekbone, causing her to wince. “Oh, well. It makes you look cool.”

“Is Ma—”

“Flower’s okay. Knocked Kesler out in one hit. He’s out for the game, though.”

Kristen nodded, putting the icepack back on her face. Her knee was pounding, and her mind was stuck on Marc. She almost wished she had been able to see his hit, but was glad she hadn’t at the same time. She could imagine Ryan’s body falling limp, an old friend turned enemy against her… whatever he was.

“Shouldn’t you be playing?”

Max looked at her, confused. “The game’s over.”

“They told me I was out for ten minutes…”

“You may have been out for that long in the beginning, yeah. You passed out, like, three times after. Low blood sugar or something.” Max put his arm around her shoulder. “We’re going back to the hotel, come on.”

Kristen stopped him, and he looked at her with fake annoyance. “You’re not going to tell me the score?”

“Of course not. That’s too easy.”

0—0—0

Marc sat in his rental car, hair still wet from his hour-long shower. He longed for a beer, or something stronger. He thought back to what Kristen had said about weed being easy to buy there and wondered if anywhere was open.

The game hadn’t seemed real. He had never been kicked out or gotten in a fight. His hand was pounding from the pain, the small cut he’d gotten on his knuckle was already scabbing over. Dan had lectured him as he was about to leave, saying he was too good of a player to be doing things like that. Luckily enough, the league was allowing him to continue playing. The ref that had been beside him spoke French and understood that the situation was personal.

He was trying his best to not think about Kristen. Max had kept him updated and told him that she would be okay, but now that wasn’t the problem. Why had Tanger said the things he did? And if he had, why did he warn Marc about the outcome? He had looked ashamed after the fight, Marc remembered that, but the whole situation was strange.

Marc happened to look up at the doors as soon as Max and Kristen walked out. He was happy to see her walking, but the limp she had made him worried again.

“There he is!” Max said, loud enough for Marc to hear with his window barely rolled down.

Marc unlocked the passenger door, then rolled down his window. “Max.”

The two walked up to his window. “Hey, Flower. I told Kristen you could drive her to the hotel if that’s okay?” Max paused. _“How are you doing?”_

Marc shrugged, then smiled at Kristen. “Of course, it’s okay.”

Kristen smiled, then winced, gently touching her cheekbone. Marc wanted to hold her right then and there, to make sure she was okay.

“Okay, kids. I’ll see you there. Play safe.” Max winked at them, then headed to the team car.

“How are you doing?” Kristen asked as she got in.

“Been better.” Marc held his hand out, and she took it, then flipped it over to look at his knuckles.

“Shit. That must’ve been a hard one. I wish I could’ve seen it.” She kissed the back of his hand tenderly, then looked up at him. “Max told me Ryan was out for the rest of the game. And that Geno got in some fights, too. Rough game.”

Marc nodded, closing his eyes and leaning his head back. “I need a drink. Or something.”

Kristen pulled out a pack of cigarettes, showing him a joint that was sitting in the center of the pack. “We can go for a walk when we get back to the hotel.” Then she smiled, and things felt right again. “So, Max never told me the score…”

“6-0. Sid went on a scoring spree after you left.”

Kristen’s face lit up even more, and she leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.

“I’m not the one that scored.” Marc found himself chuckling.

“That doesn’t matter. You fought for me.” Kristen kissed him again, on the lips this time. It was passionate but tender, and Marc moved his hand up behind her head.

They kissed for awhile, their hands wandering, when she pulled away slowly. Marc expected her to say that they should go back to the hotel before anyone saw them. He started reaching for his keys when she said something he’d never expected.

“I think I love you.”

Marc pulled away farther. He didn’t know what to say. All of the pain and worry he had been feeling left his body, replaced by butterflies in his stomach and an overwhelming sense of relief.

“I mean, I’m having fun with you. And I really care about you.” Kristen, obviously embarrassed, looked away, pulling her seatbelt on. “We can head back now.”

“No, no.” Marc couldn’t find the words. “I, uh… _I think I’ve loved you for a long time. You’re so amazing.”_

Kristen laughed and shook her head. “You really should've started dating a francophone.”

Marc blushed, about to try and find the courage to tell her again, when she raised her swollen hand.

“I know what the word ‘love’ sounds like.”

0—0—0

The plane ride went by surprisingly quick, and Dan had called an optional skate in the afternoon. Kristen had missed quite a few skates, thanks to Marc and their nighttime adventures, and the two of them were being pressured to join by Max.

“Sid’s gonna be pissed if you don’t.”

“I think Sid would understand if we told him the reason. I remember when him and G started seeing each other, he missed almost every skate.”

They were all on a three-way call. Kristen was shopping for a car, deciding that was more important than a house. She wasn’t having any luck, however, as she knew nothing about cars. The salesman beside her was obviously fed up with her walking back and forth, pointing at a Tesla that was ‘popular with the hockey guys.’

“I think I should go.” She said as she stared at the expensive beast in front of her. “The word optional doesn’t apply to me anymore.”

“Yes, thank you! Flower, listen to your ladyfriend.”

Marc sighed. _“Ne va pas choisir les côtés. Tu devrais toujours être de mon côté, Talbo.”_

“Do you want me to leave you two alone?” Kristen laughed, nodding as the salesman droned on about the pros and cons of the Tesla.

“He said he’s coming.” Max said over Marc’s complaints. “Thanks, Stew! Sid will finally get off my ass.”

“So, you’re taking it?” The man beside her spoke, blocking out the friendly argument that was happening in her ear.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Did you just finally buy a car?” She could envision the smile on Marc’s face. He didn’t mind driving her around, but it was starting to become a problem, especially with what happened in Vancouver. They weren’t ready to come forward about their relationship.

“I did. I gotta go, I’ll see you later, guys.”

The boys said their goodbyes as she hung up and headed towards the building, trailing behind the man. She felt strangely nervous, letting herself gain some roots in Pittsburgh. She definitely wasn’t a rental, but the idea that she would be spending longer than a couple of seasons there scared her.

0—0—0

“Good skate, Stew. Is nice to see you.” Geno patted her on the back happily.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. That was fun.”

Geno shrugged. “Happens.” He pulled his Under Armor off, and Kristen noticed Sid glance over.

They made eye contact, and Sid quickly looked away, pretending to be hyper-focused on getting his skates off. She immediately thought of a conversation she had had with Marc about telling the other couple their situation. Out of everyone, they were the least likely to judge, but they were also the most likely to have major concerns. Their own situation was quite different, due to Geno’s home country, so they were going to be cautious about the league bringing its attention to romantic relationships. Kristen had been told that there were more gay players who had fooled around in the league, but relationships were more dangerous.

Geno was still talking, something about dinner, but she could tell he was talking more to Sid than to her, so she allowed herself to zone out while getting undressed.

The skate had been better than good, allowing her to work on drills with her linemates and truly see herself at the same level as them. It had been hard to accept that she was playing with two of the best players on the team, maybe in the league, and that she deserved to be there. Kristen had always known that she was a decent player (why else would she be there?) but had figured that she would be at the level of a rookie for her entire career. The game was getting faster and harder, which forced older players to adapt every season. She had even seen the difference within her time away from the league. Somehow, though, the Pens were able to keep everyone up to date and up to par.

Kristen’s thoughts were interrupted as Tanger walked into the room, looking at the remaining guys in the room before turning to Marc. He mumbled something, and Marc stared at him for awhile before standing up and saying something back. He changed quickly after that, nodding at Kristen before leaving the room.

Marc and Kris had always had a back and forth friendship, stemming from Kris’s emotional issues and now from his distaste for Kristen. But through it all, Marc had been respectful, even supportive. So, their conversation could be about anything. The fight in Vancouver, their relationship, Him.

“Are you guys coming to dinner? Italian!” Sid spoke from beside her, the childish excitement in his voice pulling her away from her speculations.

“‘You guys?’” Kristen questioned.

“Flower and you.” Geno said as he buttoned up his shirt. “Are together a lot.”

“Oh.” She tried to laugh casually, but it came out more as a cough. “Um, yeah. I think he’ll be interested.”

Sid and Geno looked at each other with a small smile, then continued to discuss what they were having for dinner. Kristen looked back at the door, wondering what was happening.

0—0—0

_“You’re… what? Aplogizing?”_ Marc looked at Kris in confusion.

_“Yes.”_

Marc couldn’t help the humourless laugh that came out of him. _“A little late, Tanger.”_

Kris ran his hand through his hair. Marc could tell it had taken him a lot of courage to speak to him, especially after the fight. The press had given him flack for not defending his goaltender, and it had hit him hard.

_“I know. It’s just… I told them all of that accidentally. I was pissed off, and I never thought they would believe me. Or tell him about it. I know, I know, it doesn’t matter. The point is, I never knew it would end up the way it did. And seeing both of you thrown into all of that shit, it, uh… it made me realize what I did. I wish I could take it back.”_

Marc sighed. People walked by, dressed in Pens jackets and laughing with each other. They nodded at the men before continuing down the hall.

_“I think I know how to fix things, okay? You just have to get Kristen to talk to him. I know it’s going to be hard, but this is all coming from him. He wants to call her tonight, she needs to answer.”_

“What’s happened in her past is none of my business. No, you need to tell her this yourself.” Marc felt his anger towards the other man subside, replaced by the feeling of brotherhood that could only come from knowing someone for so long. _“Thank you for doing this. It means a lot. Just talk to her, I know she wants to fix things.”_

Kris had a forced smile on his face, but Marc could tell his feelings were genuine. He touched his shoulder, and Kris pulled away slightly.

_“I forgive you, okay? No hard feelings.”_

With that, Kris allowed him to pull him in for a hug. When they pulled away, Marc chuckled.

_“How did you know? About us?”_

Kris shrugged. _“I could tell from her first day here. Anyone who looks hard enough can see that there’s feelings on your end. And if you can get someone as great as her, well, respect, man.”_

The two smiled for a moment, and Marc could feel his face heat up. _“She is pretty great, isn’t she?”_

0—0—0

Kristen was sitting in Marc’s living room when she got the text.

**Is now a good time talk? It’s Kris.**

She looked over at Marc, who was watching a game on his iPad. He had pulled on a grey Penguins shirt but was only wearing his boxers. She smiled at the way he was watching the game, pure concentration that was very Crosby-esque. Not wanting to interrupt him, she answered the text.

**What’s up?**

Kristen set her phone down and turned on the TV. Marc looked over, nodded at her choice of movie, and turned back to his game.

They had spent the entire day together, something that was becoming a usual occurrence. Kristen had unofficially moved in, only going to the hotel to grab new clothes. She was waiting for Marc to invite her to stay permanently, but until then keeping the hotel room was the smartest way to go.

Her phone vibrated on the coffee table, echoing through the room. She expected Marc to question her about it, but his eyes remained on the tablet.

**It’s about Van. I wanted to apologize. It might be easier if I call?**   
**Okay.**

“I’m just gonna call someone, I’ll be right back.” Kristen stood up, pulling a blanket off of the couch and draping it around her shoulders. Marc nodded in response.

The air was cool as she stood on the balcony, and she pulled the blanket closer as she answered Kris’s call.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Kristen wasn’t sure what else to say, so she lit a cigarette, getting comfortable in a chair and pulling her knees to her chest.

“This is, uh… not easy.” Kris sighed, a tired sigh, and she could hear a bottle being opened. “I guess, first off, I want to say sorry about everything before. About getting pissed off at you, about what happened in Vancouver, all of it. I really don’t know what happened with me.”

“Thank you.”

“And I know how to make things right. But I need you to do something you won’t want to do.”

Kristen took a long drag, looking out at the city lights. Her stomach was starting to twirl in anxiety. “Okay?”

“You need to talk to him. He’s going to call you when we’re done.”

She felt her body go cold. She wanted to thank him for not using His name, but she couldn’t get herself to speak. Or breathe. Just the mention that He wanted to speak to her, that she would have to speak to Him, that the wall she had built by being in Pittsburgh was getting knocked down so easily, it was all enough to make it feel like her heart was going to jump out of her body. There was a longing to run to Marc, to be held in his arms and pretend that everything outside of his home was gone.

“I, um… Can’t.”

“You have to. For all of us, please. I know that you want this to end just as much as I do.”

Kristen stared at her cigarette. “Fuck, I… I’m sorry, I just—”

“You can. Just do it. For Flower. For me. For you.”

And with that, Kris had hung up on her, leaving her sitting on the balcony with her hands shaking at the thought of her next phone call.

It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen it coming. Kristen knew it had to happen at some point. Their relationship had ended incredibly fast, with no closure and no discussion. ‘It was just the way things had to be,’ was how He worded it in a text at two in the morning. She had kept that text on her phone for so long. Maybe she had been hoping for Him to say something else, to say that the divorce had made Him realize how much He loved her, that she didn’t have to waive her no-trade clause and she could stay with Him forever. It had seemed overly hopeful even when they were together, but a part of her had still believed it. And it wasn’t as if she was still in love with Him. Her relationship with Marc had proven that. But… there was still something there.

Taking a deep breath, Kristen clicked on His last message. She refused to go through and read all of the old texts, but she managed to spy the words ‘love you’ before she clicked his information and hit the little telephone. Her heart raced as it rang.

Maybe He wouldn’t answer. Maybe she could just turn her phone off and go back to Marc, curl up and watch whatever he was watching. She lit yet another cigarette, keeping her attention on the warning label to keep herself from hanging up.

“Krissy? Thank you for calling me.”


	9. Il m’en aura fallu du temps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what you've all been waiting for....  
> (also why did the bar turn into the equivalent of central perk in friends? who knows i'm proof reading this as i post so i forgot half of this stuff)

“Krissy? Thank you for calling me.”

She couldn’t speak again. It wasn’t like when she was talking to Kris, though. This was terrible, anxious, feeling like the world was ending and she was falling down an endless hole.

“Kristen?”

Her hands were shaking. She stared at them, unsure of what to do. The cigarette she had just lit looked like it was spinning through her fingers.

“You don’t have to talk. Just listen.”

Would Marc come out and check on her? Would she be able to breathe once he was touching her?

“I didn’t want Ryan to do what he did. I never told him to. And this isn’t on Kris, either.”

The city lights were blurry. He sounded exactly like how she remembered. His accent made her gulp.

“Of course, it… hurt, when I heard about you. I know it shouldn’t. You don’t belong to me anymore.”

“I never belonged to you.” How had she said that? What part of her was that coming from?

“You’re… you’re right, I’m sorry. I guess there was a part of me that never wanted you to move on.”

“You were the one that moved on. You were the one that cheated on your wife and deserted your children.” Why was she talking?

“Don’t you dare say that. I never deserted them.”

The lights were becoming less blurry, her heart rate slowing down. “Why are you doing this?”

“I miss you, Stew. I miss us. I’ve been going to group therapy, you know? NA and all that. I’m getting better. You inspired me to change.”

Kristen had nothing to say. She put out her cigarette, standing up and leaning against the edge of the balcony. She would’ve tried to jump off a year ago.

“I can go back to playing once I hit a couple months. Then we can see each other.” Pages flipping. “I have it marked on my calendar.”

“I don’t want to see you.”

“I think your opinion will change. I’m different. Once you see me in person, you’ll know that.”

“I don’t want to see you.”

“You can bring that new guy if you want. Another French guy, huh? Funny. I know you’re trying to find me in him. You won’t. We need to see each other.” There was an edge to his voice that she was very used to. The way he would sound before he would throw chairs at windows, plates across the room. “I need to show you I’ve changed.”

“Please, stop.” Her hands were balled into fists.

“I’m serious, Stew. I know you miss me, too.”

“GODDAMIT, XAVIER, I SAID STOP. STOP STOP STOP. LEAVE ME ALONE.”

She was shaking again, a terrible tremor that almost made her drop her phone. She could hear Marc on the other side of the door, knocking.

“NEVER TALK TO ME OR ANYONE I KNOW AGAIN. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.”

He was talking back to her, trying to interrupt, but she kept going, a string of words she would never remember. The door slid open and things went blurry again, for a different reason. She couldn’t feel her legs, and then she was on the ground. Marc had her phone, he was speaking frantically in French. Then he was kneeling beside her and talking to her, but she heard none of it.

“I said his name.”

Marc stopped midsentence. “What?”

His face was close to hers, she could smell his shampoo. She raised her shaking hand to his cheek.

“I said his name. I haven’t said his name in… so fucking long.”

“Oh, _chérie. Mon amour, je suis tellement désolé. Je savais que je savais et je ne te le disais pas._ I’m so sorry.” Marc pulled her closer to him, her head resting on his chest.

Kristen suddenly realized how cold it was outside. Her uncontrollable shaking was less anger and anxiety and more the fact that her favourite blanket was not warm enough for the Pittsburgh winter.

“I don’t know what you just said.”

Marc let out a short laugh, his arms tightening around her. “Just—I think I love you.”

“I think I love you, too.”

0—0—0

His name was everywhere since she said it. It was like that wall that had been broken down was literal. The floodgates had opened, and now she couldn’t stop hearing his fucking name.

“Vancouver Canucks forward, Xavier Laflamme, issued another statement today commenting on his return to Vancouver, coming just after the team’s third straight loss of the—”

“Is always louder when they talk. I’m complain, don’t listen.” Geno took a sip of his water and walked away from the bar, leaving Kristen to stare at the TV.

“I can get them to change it.”

“It’s fine. Really.” Kristen turned to Max. “It’s gotten easier.”

Max looked at her with the expression she normally would’ve characterized as pity, but had learned to accept was just compassion. “I hope you don’t mind, Marc told me.”

“I kinda assumed he would.” Kristen’s eyes had gone back to the TV. Her picture was on the screen once again, sandwiched between Sid and Geno as they celebrated a goal. “I almost lost it, Max, I really did.”

Max sat still, continuing to look at her. “But it’s done now?”

“I doubt it. I told him to stop. It wasn’t a very… kind conversation.”

A yell came from the pool tables, causing them both to look over as Tanger raised his fist in celebration.

“And how is the Kris and Kristen story?”

Kristen scratched her arm, spinning her chair back to look at the TV. “He apologized. I believed him.”

The setting sun was shining through the bar windows, reflecting off of the snow. Kristen’s mind went to the game that night. Not many of the guys had agreed to come to the bar before the game for food and pool, a way to relax, but the few that had were all having a great time. It made her forget the trauma she had experienced the night before. She had felt incredibly bad for Marc, who had to sit with her for hours afterwards, her tears and snot making his shirt wet. It had been a long time since someone had seen her that way.

“He seems happier. Maybe he’ll pass to you tonight.” Max winked.

“I have never been more excited to get on the ice. I just want to pay attention to something other than my own life.” Kristen paused, then laughed. “I’m starting to feel like Sid.”

“Play like Sid, too, and tonight will be an easy one, _mon petit soleil.”_ Marc stepped up behind her, putting his hand on her shoulder in lieu of a kiss on the cheek. Max gave them a cheeky smile and turned to sip his mineral water.

“You know there's people in here who can understand you.” Kristen said, glancing at the pool table.

Marc shrugged and ordered a water. “All of them know now. Except for Duper but I didn’t see him come in…?”

She pursed her lips in thought. “Should we tell Sid and G?”

Max coughed on his water, bringing the attention around the room to him. He nervously raised his hand to let everyone he was okay. People looked away, some chuckling, but Tanger’s eyes lingered as Max turned back to the couple.

“Am I witnessing a moment? An important relationship moment?” His voice was lowered to a whisper.

“No, I didn’t say that—”

“I am, in fact, witnessing an important moment. Marc, _où est l'anneau? La fête de fiançailles? C'est un événement de vie important, vous dites Sid et Geno!”_

_“Oui, vous serez mon meilleur homme à la très importante soirée "Telling Sid and Geno".”_

“Guys, it was just a question.”

“It’s never just a question, my dear Stew.”

Kristen sighed, shaking her head at the two men.

“I’m hear my name.” Geno set his glass down on the bar, making her jump. “Tell me what?”

“It’s nothing, G. Just dumb boy stuff.”

Geno laughed at that, tipping the bartender. “I head out. See you tonight.”

The three waved goodbye before returning to their discussion.

“In all seriousness, you totally should.” Max said. “What’s the worst that can happen? They tell you about them and you already know. They say you shouldn’t tell anyone else. It’s fool proof.”

Kristen finished her ginger ale. “You’re right. After the game, maybe.”

0—0—0

Marc always tried to never look at the clock. It was one of the only things that made him nervous during a game, the knowledge of how much longer he had for his teammates to depend on him. But this time he looked up. Two minutes. It would be okay.

The Pens were up by three, and, if things went well, this would be his eighth career shutout. Tanger had finally started passing to Kristen, and she seemed to be using her anger towards Xavier as inspiration to keep the puck on Tampa Bay’s net.

He allowed himself to think about after the game. Kristen had told him she would handle telling Sid and Geno, he would just have to stand beside her, but he still felt nervous. As Max had said, there was nothing bad that could happen, but his mind was going to the worst. What if the team found out? The league? Would one of them have to leave the team? Was it even legal for them to be seeing each other?

Geno would be nothing but supportive. He loved Kristen, and Marc had always had a good relationship with him. It was Sid he was worried about. Not that Sid wouldn’t be supportive, but his passion was always for the game and the team. If something could possibly jeopardize that…

Eventually, the buzzer went off, and Marc realized he had been thinking about Kristen the whole time. The team skated towards him, congratulating him on the shutout.

_“Beautiful game, Flower.”_ Max grinned at him.

_“Beautiful? That’s a new one.”_ Marc laughed as his friend skated off.

Kristen was next in line, and she said nothing. Just a knowing smile and a tap on his helmet. Marc felt butterflies once again. She had such a beautiful smile.

The locker room was buzzing with excitement, and Marc allowed himself to soak in the atmosphere before he would have to be serious. Kristen was joking with Schultzy, her ponytail bobbing as she danced to the song playing.

“You ready to sit on a plane for a billion hours?” Max walked over to Marc, drying his hair off. _“Right beside Sid, too. How convenient.”_

Marc frowned. _“Kristen’s dealing with it.”_ His anxiety returned full force, and Max’s joking smile went away.

_“Hey, man. I was joking. It’ll be okay.”_

Marc nodded, smiling slightly as he flattened the collar on his blazer. Kristen was still dancing around. She had taken her ponytail out, and the way her hair was framing her face made Marc feel things he didn’t want to be feeling in a room full of guys. He was aware of the stupid grin that was on his face, though, and tried to play it off by elbowing Max. 

“You’re going down tonight, by the way.” He pointed at his chest. “Call of Duty master.”

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you out there, loser.” Max glanced at Kristen. “Bye, Stew!”

“I told you to stop calling me that!” Kristen yelled from her locker.

0—0—0

Kristen stood in front of Sid and Geno, an unsure look on her face. Their bags were in between them, and she nervously played with the strap of her backpack with her foot as she began.

“I—we—have something we need to tell you. Or, want to tell you.” Her voice was hesitant, and she tried her best to clear her throat nonchalantly. “We knew that—thought that—you guys would understand the most.”

Geno frowned slightly. Sid put his hands in his pockets, glancing at their plane outside.

“You’ve noticed that we’ve been hanging out a lot, and—”

“Okay, boys, and lady, let’s get outta here.” Rusty walked by, patting Marc on the shoulder as he headed to the gate.

“I just need to tell—”

“Can you tell us on the plane? Or, Flower tells me, and you can tell G.” Sid smiled at them while ushering them all along. Kristen looked at Marc, hoping he would mention something, but he had his head down, and a small frown on his face. Regrets?

Kristen settled down in her seat. Her phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out, expecting it to be a text from Max. He was always texting someone. Instead, it was someone she thought she’d gotten rid of.

**Can we talk again? I feel like I didn’t get my point across before. Let me know. Xoxo**

Her grip tightened around the phone, and she quickly deleted the message thread before Geno sat down. The best thing she could do was ignore Xavier now. She had told him how she felt, she had let down the unhealthy barrier she had created for herself. It was time for him to realize that.

“So, what’s up?” Geno turned to her, his hands under his chin in a comically childlike position.

“Oh, um… this was more of a conversation for the four of us…” Suddenly, she was incredibly nervous that Marc wouldn’t tell Sid, leaving her to be the one to let their secret out. If he wasn’t ready, she didn’t want to push him. “I think we should tell you guys at practice tomorrow.”

“Flower tell Sid, you tell me.” Geno gestured to the front of the plane. “Is okay.”

“Can I just…” Kristen pulled her phone back out. “Just to see if he’s okay with it?”

Geno nodded, turning to the men across the aisle. Kristen opened her messages with Marc, smiling at the flower emoji beside his name.

**Are we for sure doing this?**

He replied almost instantly.

**If you’re okay with it. Make sure he doesn’t know that you know about them**

Kristen nodded to herself and set her phone down on her lap. “Okay, G.”

0—0—0

“Okay, Sid.”

Sid had his body turned towards Marc, head tilted slightly. His intense focus made Marc look away.

“Like Kristen was saying, we’ve been hanging out a lot. As you know. And we’ve been having a lot of fun, as you know.” He became self conscious of the level of his voice and lowered it to a whisper. “I think you can imagine where this is headed.”

0—0—0

“I’m assuming you know what I’m trying to say, but…” Kristen was leaning so close to Geno that she was surprised no one was staring. “We’re, uh…”

Geno’s eyebrows raised, and he leaned away from her in surprise. “You…” He looked up at the front of the plane. “You two?”

0—0—0

“Actually?” Sid’s voice was uncomfortably loud in the very quiet plane, and Marc scratched his arm nervously.

“You know what I mean, right?”

“I think so… You’re…” He looked around the plane, then crossed his pointer and middle fingers.

Marc nodded. His chest was tight, whether it was the pressure from the plane or nervousness he couldn’t tell.

“And you figured… because me and…” Sid nodded towards the back of the plane.

“Yes.”

0—0—0

“Yes.”

Geno took a deep breath, glancing down at Kristen’s phone. “Tell him.”

“And you’re okay with it?” Kristen rubbed her neck.

“I talk to Sid. But yes.”

She nodded slowly, picking her phone up once again.

**He knows. No idea that I know about them, but he’s okay with it**  
0—0—0

Marc felt the knot in his chest loosen as he looked at Kristen’s text. Sid had told him that they would all need to talk when they were settled in Montreal, but he was okay with the whole situation. At least for now.

The rest of the plane ride was quiet. Most of the guys had fallen asleep, but Marc couldn’t control the excitement that was beating in his chest, the longing for Kristen to be in his bed that night and to be saying his name so loud that Max would complain the next morning…

He dug his fingernails into his palm, trying to control the urge to text her. Of course, it didn’t work.

**Is it too stereotypical if I say u up? ;)**

The window panel was slightly open, and the lights of the city appeared. He wanted to be in the hotel.

**Hah. Maybe. But I like it anyway.**   
**Well… u up?**

He could hear Kristen stifle a laugh from behind him.

**I am ;) got something on your mind, flower?**   
**Just can’t wait to sneak into your room tonight. You deserve a lot for telling Geno, he’s almost scarier than Sid.**   
**Emphasis on the ‘almost’ I’m guessing :P**

Marc laughed quietly, glancing at the sleeping Sid.

**Not so scary when he’s asleep.**   
**Geno’s always scary. Those Russian vibes, you know**   
**Oh, I know. I’ve spent a lot of time feeling those.**   
**I should probably try to nap. Busy night tonight ;) I think I love you, by the way**   
**I think I love you, too.**


	10. Powerful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, now that we know who mystery man is...  
> i chose a fictional character because i felt a little weird putting all of that negative stuff onto an actual person (regardless if said person had been accused of those things or not). also, goon is one of my favourite movies, and xavier was the best character imo.  
> thanks for the support guys!

Kristen tugged at the sleeve of her one-piece, unsure if her outfit was too much for that night. It was important for her to be up to par with the guys, looking formal enough to catch attention but not too flashy. Although, Geno had mentioned a velvet blazer, so maybe she would be okay.

“You look great.” Marc walked through the door connecting their hotel rooms. Max had gotten the hint that they would never stop sneaking into each other’s rooms and talked to the hotel about getting two adjoining rooms. Easier for him to leave if they ended up in the room he shared with Marc.

“I feel like it’s getting more and more… Met Gala.” Kristen looked at him through the mirror. “Getting paid to wear a lot of these, though.”

“I wish.” Marc pulled his tie around his neck, then stopped. “We’re matching.” His burgundy tie was the exact same shade as her outfit.

“It’s like we’re going to prom.” She pulled on her heels and stood behind him, helping him tie the fabric around his neck.

The two stood there, looking at each other in the mirror. Kristen couldn’t keep herself from wrapping her arms around him, rubbing his chest. They were a good-looking couple.

The word couple. That was a weird one. They weren’t technically dating, they had described it to Sid and Geno as ‘seeing each other.’ But wasn’t that what it was? They had basically said they loved each other. And they spent every day together. They were as domestic as they could be for two people who had been fucked over by relationships.

Max walking in stopped her stream-of-consciousness. He watched the two of them awkwardly move apart before speaking.

“Isn’t it, like, a superstition thing not to wear the colour of the opposing team?”

Kristen raised her hands. “I’m supposed to wear this. That’s just what he packed.”

Marc mumbled something in French, jokingly punching Max in the chest.

“Hey, I’m the one who had to stay up all night listening to you, uh… _baiser.”_ Max laughed, dodging another hit from Marc and running to the door. _“Obtenir un autre tour avant de partir. Tu joues mieux avec ça.”_ He quickly shut and locked the door before Kristen could ask what he said.

“Once again. No French unless I would’ve learned it in middle school.”

Marc, with a cheeky grin on his face, shrugged and kissed her. “Meet you out there?”

Kristen nodded and turned back to the mirror. The smile on her face made her unrecognizable to herself. How long had it been since she’d smiled every day? Since she’d looked forward to going on the ice and joking around with men that were quickly becoming her family? She didn’t want to give all of the credit to Marc, but it would be crazy to say he wasn’t helping. His love for the game inspired her.

She stood up, ready to head down to the hotel lobby, when her phone vibrated in her purse.

**Good luck tonight. Wearing your jersey xoxo**

Her breath hitched, the excitement she had felt for the night replaced with… Fear. There were only so many times she could deal with this. Xavier’s biggest talent was getting under a player’s skin, nitpicking the little things that set someone’s heart on fire. He knew that she remembered the conversation they had had that one night. The love she had felt for him in that moment.

_“What happens if one of us has to go?”_

_“I’ll always be wearing your jersey, baby. No matter where you are, I’m on your team.”_

Kristen’s stomach flipped nervously. She rushed to the minifridge, digging through the untouched bottles of alcohol for some ginger ale. A small can sat in the back corner, and she threw the rest of the bottles aside, sinking down to the floor and taking a large gulp. The bubbles immediately soothed her, distracting from the painful memory of the two of them laying on his living room floor, just like… just like her and Marc had.

She needed to tell someone before it got bad. She knew that. This was the reason she had blocked him out in the first place, had terrible nightmares and anxiety. Why she had needed to do five lines of coke to keep up with the way his brain switched between her and his wife. To be drunk to sleep with him.

But if she ignored this one, that must mean something to him. That she was over him, that her feelings for Marc were real.

That was bound to mean something.

0—0—0

The loss hit Marc hard. It was always hard after a win streak, when everyone got used to the feeling of being the best.

It was silent in the locker room, everyone eventually clearing out for a hard flight to Winnipeg. Kristen waited until most of the men were gone before walking to the showers.

_“Now’s your chance, Flower.”_ Max walked by him, winking. Marc cringed, remembering the drunken night when he had told Max about his fantasy of shower sex. _“I told the guys to stay out because the lady was showering. I’ll say you’re, uh… stretching? I don’t know, they probably won’t care.”_

Marc shook his head, standing up and beginning to follow Max out of the room. “You’re funny.”

_“Hey, it’s not a joke, kiddo. You’re staying here.”_ Max rushed ahead, pulling the door closed.

Marc knew it wasn’t locked, but it was easier if he pretended it was. His nerves went away as he realized they were the only two left, everyone else waiting outside. He better get things done quickly, or else everyone would hate him. Once again, he knew that wasn’t true, but it helped.

He could hear Kristen humming in the shower, a Will Smith song that Tanger had insisted on before the game. It was little things like that that made him feel so grateful for her. Her energy was contagious, and he immediately felt better about the game.

The shower was close, and Marc wandered towards the mirror by the sink. He ran his hand through his hair. There were so many times he couldn’t recognize himself. His face was mostly the same, apart from heavier smile lines and more freckles. But to himself, he looked so much older. Older and wiser? No, he was definitely the same mentally. Which was why he needed Kristen. She made him feel smarter, like a leader on the team, like an important role. Like he could brag about all of those things and have them be true.

With a deep breath, he headed over to the wall of the shower. “Knock, knock.”

Kristen’s humming stopped. “Hello?”

“Don’t worry, just me. There’s no one else here.” Marc turned around the corner, feeling too nervous to look directly at her. “Max made me stay.”

Kristen was facing away from him, her hair cascading down her back. Marc felt his body react automatically, and he shoved his hands in his pockets. “So, you’re joining me?” He could hear the smile on her face.

“Um, yeah. If that’s okay.”

She turned around, and he was sure he was going to have a heart attack. “Of course.”

Moving closer, she dried off her hands before reaching to take off his blazer and setting it on the counter. Marc felt his breathing hitch as she started to unbutton his shirt, and she giggled.

“What brought this on?”

Marc shrugged, unable to talk as she moved on to his pants. 

“Well, we’ll have to thank Max.” Kristen turned back to the shower while Marc tried his best to get his socks off without falling over. “Is this not illegal in the eyes of the league?”

“Probably.” He already sounded breathless. His feet stopped working as he reached the edge of the tile, his eyes stuck on the way she looked under the water.

“You need some help?”

“Probably.”

Kristen giggled again, grabbing his hand and dragging him under the water. She kissed him hard, enough to make all of his nerves disappear.

And then he wasn’t curious anymore.

0—0—0

Max stood outside of the locker room door, trying his best to ignore the faint noises coming from inside. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard them before.

He would do anything for Marc. He was his Flower. He loved him. Not in the way that Marc loved Kristen, but in that brotherly love way where you wonder how you hadn’t met that person sooner. And he was scared for them, no doubt about that. They had to make it, though, right? It was meant to be.

The idea of fate and true love had left Max since he had become single. He had thought that he had found the one. He had accepted that he was probably meant to be alone with his hockey brothers forever, that women were overrated. But spending his time trying to set up not one, but two couples was starting to give him some hope. He would have to ask Kristen if she had any female friends. Although, with all of the time she spent at the rink, the only people she was around were all people that Max could not be attracted to.

It was worth it, though. Being around happy couples. It made him happy to be a part of secret, passionate love affairs, to force two people together. Well, not force. He wasn’t forcing anything, that’s just how love worked. There had to be something that pushed two people in love together, and he was that something.

It was still hard to listen to Flower talk about her. Max hoped he would find his own _petit soleil,_ and soon. He was lonely.

The sound of laughing moved towards the door, and Max stepped away as Kristen opened the door, trying to force his trademark smirk onto his face.

“Thank you.” Kristen hugged him, and the smirk came more easily.

“What can I say? I’m the master of love.”

“Something like that.” Marc laughed, shaking his wet hair in Max’s face. “Another one off the bucket list.”

Max laughed. He watched the couple walk down the hallway, able to hold hands with basically no one in the building. It made his heart happy, and he suddenly had a little more hope.

0—0—0

“When will I not be tired?” Kristen asked in the general direction of the group of men behind her. It was more to herself than anything.

“When will practice truly be optional so I can fucking sleep?” Tanger said.

“When will you guys quit complaining?” Sid called from farther behind. He and Geno were strolling along casually, their hands grazing slightly every once in awhile.

The rest of the walk from the bus to the rink felt longer than the whole ten seconds it probably took, Winnipeg’s freezing weather making it feel like years. Kristen pulled her jacket closer to her body.

“When’s the next hot place? I’m sick of winter jackets.” Schultzy pulled off his scarf as the team got into the arena.

“I think we have Phoenix in a couple days.” Kristen turned to Sid to confirm, but he was joking around with Geno.

Her and Schultzy talked for awhile as they got dressed, still trying to warm themselves up before getting on the ice. She glanced at Marc as he pulled on his pads and found herself smiling. He was beyond cute. She was beyond lucky.

“Dinner after video? You okay with that?” Justin leaned towards her, waving his hand in front of her face. “It’s okay if you have… other plans.” There was definitely a smirk on his face.

Kristen quickly looked away from Marc, pulling her hair out of its bun to braid it. “Um, yeah. Yeah, that should work.” A small smile. “I’m sorry, it’s the cold. Brain’s not working.”

Justin gave a short laugh before grabbing his helmet. “See ya out there, Stew.”

“Max! I told you not to tell people to call me that!” Kristen walked, her hands still braiding, over to Max’s stall, giving him a joking kick.

_“Tu me dois toute ta relation. Je pense que je peux vous appeler Stew.”_

“English! Please!”

Max’s loud laugh filled the room, causing Sid to laugh. It wasn’t long before most of the room was giggling to some degree, and Kristen felt her shoulders relax at the sound of joy filling the room. This was where she belonged. These were the people she belonged with.

Would it really be so bad to tell the whole team? Or at least Mario? As Max had said about Sid and Geno, what was the worst that could happen? If one of them was forced to leave, Kristen would in a heartbeat. But that was worst case. The love that all of these guys had for each other, it was bound to all work out.

It was with a light feeling in her chest, a feeling she hadn’t had in a long time, that she skated onto the ice that morning. Things would have to work out.

0—0—0

Video seemed to drag on with Marc beside her. His hand had been toying with a thread on her leggings, the outside of her thigh, and it was making any sort of focus extremely hard. Dan had shown a couple of her clips as things that the team should be working towards, making it easier for her to hide the blush that Marc was causing her.

They were flanked by Max and Sid in the back row, and both men occasionally looked at them with a smug look. Marc had told her about a conversation they had had on the plane ride over, and it replayed in her head as video droned on.

\--

“He told me not to pull a muscle.” Marc had a weird look on his face, a mix of humour and embarrassment.

Kristen burst out laughing. “Well, it’s good advice.” She pulled the blankets up around her armpits before jumping out of bed. Her clothes were scattered around the floor, and she stepped over them on her way to the mini fridge.

“I mean, yeah. But it was like talking to my dad or something. He was so sure about everything he was saying.”

“He has some experience in this…. Situation.”

Marc made a noise, rolling over to face her. “He said if we keep it secret it’s like the, uh… _voyage de noces?_ Like it never ends.”

“Honeymoon phase.” She sipped her ginger ale, smiling to herself. “How did I know that?”

“That’s something you would want, right?” Marc was serious, causing her smile to slowly fade away.

Kristen set her drink down and sat down on the bed beside him. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. She knew she wanted him, and she didn’t think the potential complications would break them up.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I just want this. And you.”

His smile made everything melt away, and once again it was just the two of them spending time together.

\--

Had that been his way of saying he wanted things to stay as secret as they were right now? Or was he simply wondering if that’s how she felt?

His fingers had moved their way up her leg, his hand now cupping the top of her thigh. Kristen almost jumped at the very public display, unsure of what to do. It was then that she noticed that both Max and Sid were leaning forward, elbows on their knees, blocking the men beside them from seeing anything. She almost laughed, unable to believe the levels that brotherhood went to sometimes.

Video went on for longer than Kristen could handle, and the guys all jumped up as soon as it was over, excited for free dinner in the hotel banquet hall. Marc’s hand slowly slid down her leg, and Max smirked, shaking his head at his friend.

_“Vous nous devez beaucoup, monsieur. Espèce de bâtard.”_

_“Hé, tu n'avais pas à faire ça.”_

Kristen raised her hands. “Hello?”

“You should know more French by now. Remember, I can hear you guys when we’re on the road.” Max grinned at the couple, and their faces both turned red. Kristen thought back to their time earlier that day, the words Marc had said to her. She hadn’t understood most of them in the heat of the moment, but could now pick out certain phrases that made her face turn even redder.

Sid rolled his eyes as they strolled out to the hall. “Lower your voice, Talbo. We don’t need more people in on this.”

Sid’s comment hit her harder than it should have. So, he thought it would end badly. That was probably why Marc had brought it up before, how she would feel about the whole thing.

Her mind was reeling as the men made their way to the buffet. Kristen couldn’t imagine being away from Marc now, and that terrified her. She watched him joke with Max as they piled their plates full of spaghetti. What if they couldn’t be together?

She started to feel sick, her stomach twirling. A cigarette would help.

“I’m just going outside.” She said to no one in particular before rushing out into the cold.

The air cleared her head, and it didn’t take long for the anxiety to cease as she inhaled smoke. People walked in and out of the building, but none paid attention to the girl doing breathing exercises in the corner.

“You’re okay.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, and Kristen whipped her head around to see Tanger standing by the door.

“Oh, um… yeah. Yeah.” Her eyes went back down to the cigarette, unsure of what to say.

“Can I sit with you?” Kris walked closer, eyeing the spot beside her. She nodded, and he sat down, pulling out his own pack of cigarettes and lighting one.

“Since when do you smoke?”

“Since life decided to fuck me over.” Kris laughed as he exhaled. “So, on and off.”

Kristen nodded, turning her attention to the snow falling from the sky. She wanted to call Marc and tell him to come out. He loved the snow, it reminded him of their first date.

“I heard what Sid said.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I know how that must’ve sounded.” Was that an actual look of concern on his face? “We don’t think that way.”

Kristen frowned. “We?”

“Me, Sid and Geno, Max. Duper. Yes, I know, he wasn’t supposed to know. He kinda just put two and two together.”

Kristen went to speak but accepted it. She knew he wouldn’t judge them.

“We just want you guys to be safe. The press will eat all of us alive, but especially you two.”

“I’ve been through it before. Shit, I’m still going through it.”

“Just remember. You’re not the only one.” Kris put out his cigarette and stood up. “Think on it before you do anything, okay?”

“I will.” Kristen stood up with him, glancing back at the snow. “Thank you. For getting over it. And helping us.”

“We’re family now. If you ever need to talk, talk to me. I’ll get it more than anyone here.”

Kristen thought about Xavier’s texts. She knew that she should tell him, maybe get him to help. But there was a part of her that knew that he would eventually leave her alone. She could block his number. At the same time, Kris knew her better than anyone, and could give her the best advice. But… no. She needed to wait it out before starting another soap opera.

“Thank you. Same goes to you, Tanger. Now, let’s get out of this snowstorm."


	11. Build Me up Buttercup

The game was mostly uneventful, Pittsburgh winning 3-0. Kristen allowed herself the chance to relax by the end of the second period, Winnipeg obviously struggling against a team anxious to start another win streak.

Kristen sat down in front of the mirror in Marc’s room, scrubbing at the makeup that had decided to become a part of her skin. She really needed to stop playing with makeup on, but it was too much effort to take it off and then put it back on. Marc was in the bath, his version of relaxation. Kristen always found it hard to be in a bathtub alone since she was a child.

She gave up on trying to get her eyeliner off, opting to go sit on the bathroom floor and talk to him.

“How’s it going in there?”

Marc made a noise of approval, reaching his hand out to hold hers. “Join me.”

Kristen eyed the tub. It was large, vintage. Something a live-in girlfriend would buy for herself. There were little things like that all over the house, little reminders that someone else had been there before her. Someone with great taste, though.

“You’ve been in there for, like, an hour. Your hands are all pruney.”

Marc frowned at her. “So? Water’s still hot. _Entrez.”_

Standing there, looking at him, she had a realization. She wanted to officially live there. She wanted to wake up and help him make breakfast before practice. She wanted her clothes in the half-empty closet, to not live in a hotel anymore, to add her own little touches to the place. Most of all, she wanted to experience life with this beautiful man.

“Marc.”

He frowned harder. The expression looked strange on his face. “What’s wrong?”

Kristen was holding her breath and tried her best to exhale without it sounding shaky and unsure. “You like when I’m here, right?”

“Of course, I do, _chéri.”_ He squeezed her hand. “If I could have you here all the time, I would.”

“What if I was here all the time? Like… what if I stayed?”

Marc was silent, and she lowered her gaze to their hands.

“I mean, I don’t have to. I just thought, I’m here a lot anyway, and I’m probably not going to end up finding a place of my own, I mean, Max offered but I thought I’d ask—”

“Kristen.”

“I just don’t want to impose in case this isn’t, you know, what you want—”

Marc raised his palm to her, making her stop in her tracks. He pulled her closer. “This is everything that I want.” His hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her in for a kiss.

“Really?”

“Hey. Kiss me.” Marc’s smile said it all, and Kristen kissed him as hard as she could before he pulled her into the tub with him.

0—0—0

“Fuck!”

Kristen’s voice rang through the rink, causing Marc to look up from playing with the tape on his stick. She skated toward the bench, her face twisted up in pain. She was favouring her knee again.

Marc waved up from the net, Murray replacing him, and skated over to the small group that had formed around the bench.

“Did it twist wrong?” Max had his hand on her shoulder, looking down at her knee as if he had x-ray vision.

“I don’t know. I think so. Vancouver kind of fucked it up but… It’s been fine since. Fuck.”

Marc tried to hide the blatant look of concern on his face. The other men nodded their heads, offering advice as the trainers asked her questions. Max patted his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Flower. It’s better they figure this out now.”

He nodded, but the concern was still stuck in his chest.

0—0—0

“I don’t know, it twisted weird when I took that shot…”

“And you’ve had problems with that knee before?”

“Yes. When I was younger, I blocked a shot from a guy and it just… it felt like this.”

Kristen flinched as the trainer touched her knee gently. She couldn’t handle an injury at this point in the season, just when she was starting to prove herself… It was sure to cost her something.

“And you’ve seen someone about this since that first incident?” The trainer continued to move her knee gently.

“Yes, they said to keep it in a brace for awhile. I did, it was fine. I went down on it weird during the fight in Vancouver.” Her hand went to her mouth, holding back a cry in pain as she stepped down from the massage table.

“We’re going to keep you out tonight, see if some rest will do it good. Wear the brace, try to keep off of it as much as you can, okay?”

“Yes. Okay. Thank you so much.”

The trainer looked up from his notepad and smiled. “You’re having an amazing season. You’ll be just fine.”

0—0—0

“So, it’s what, a sprain?” Sid tapped his stick on the ground three times, more out of worry than superstition. Max’s eyes were trained on the delicate taping on its blade.

“She said something about irritation? Or something like that? That she needed to stay off it for a bit.” Marc’s voice was tense.

Geno eyed Sid knowingly. His own battles with knee problems were ongoing, and he knew the struggle of trying to play with an injury like that. Max let out a sigh before hitting Marc lightly in the shoulder to begin their pre-game routine.

Marc played along, but he was obviously upset and had his mind somewhere else.

The guys made their way onto the ice, and Max felt a nervous energy as they did their laps. He paused in front of the net, facing the guys as they skated around him.

“Let’s win this for Stew, boys!” He heard himself speak up, from frustration and nerves. He hadn’t realized how much of a role Kristen was starting to play.

0—0—0

Kristen sat on Marc’s couch, wrapped up in her favourite blanket. She was wearing her Penguins hoodie and a toque but had opted out of wearing pants. If anyone asked, it was a superstition.

Her name had already been mentioned numerous times. Max had texted her after warmups mentioning how strange it felt to not have her there, and she was starting to wonder if she was actually playing a larger role on the team than she had thought.

Soon, the game began, and she dug into her popcorn and a six-pack of ginger ale. Marc looked shakier than usual, and she longed to skate up to him and tap him with her stick, give him a little push. Tell him they got this.

It had been her choice to stay home. Mario was more than happy to invite her up to his private box, but clothes that were comfortable and not having to wear high heels the whole night outweighed a free dinner. There was a part of her that was regretting that choice as she watched the men play. They were doing well, but it was obvious that Sid and Geno had the team on their shoulders.

She looked around the room during a commercial break. Marc's living room, like the bedroom, had only a couple of pictures on the walls and tables, and the whole place was unnaturally clean for a man who had been living by himself for awhile. Max probably came by to clean it up, judging by how clean his place always was. The walls were a warm white, made even warmer by the wood accents throughout the house. It was a beautiful place, like the cafés they always chose to visit when they had some free time. It was lacking any personal items of hers, not that she had many to begin with after the move. Most of her things were in storage back at her parents’ home.

Her mind went back to the café, their first date in Vancouver. He had looked so ethereal underneath the fairy lights.

The fairy lights! Something she could add to the house!

Kristen glanced at the game clock. Two minutes to intermission. There was a Walmart close to Marc’s house that would probably have some, she knew she would make it back before the second period.

She stood up, pulling on a pair of jeans that were laying on the floor before setting the TV to record the rest of the game. Just in case she got caught up somewhere.

Her heart was beating fast in excitement. It would be the first gift she had given him, and, even though it was small, she knew somewhere in her mind that it would mean a lot to him.

0—0—0

Marc pulled his keys out of his pocket, eager to be in bed and not have to think about the disappointment that was his playing that night. It hadn’t been anyone’s fault but his own that they had lost by four, an embarrassing number by any goalie’s standards, and his mind had been somewhere else the whole game. On the girl waiting for him at home, with her leg propped up on some couch pillows, only in her underwear, needing him to carry her to bed. It was dangerous not having her on the ice with them.

After fumbling for awhile with tired arms, he finally opened the door. “Home, _chéri!_ I was going to bring you ice from the trainers for your knee, but it melted really fa—”

He was stopped in his tracks by the warm lights shining throughout the living room, giving it a golden hue that immediately took him back to the café. There were candles lit on each table, and a delicious smell wafted in from the kitchen. “Kristen? What is this?”

Kristen wandered into the foyer from the bedroom hall, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and panties. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight of her.

“Hey.” She had a grin on her face. “I got bored.”

“I can see that.” He set down his wallet and keys on the table beside him, sitting down to take off his shoes. “What about your knee?”

Kristen waved away his comment, kneeling to help him untie a shoe instead of answering. He raised his hand to touch her chin, lifting her head to look at him.

“It’s so beautiful. _Mon petit soleil._ You didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” She smiled again and kissed his nose before standing up and heading to the kitchen. “Look around! I changed some stuff.”

“Did you watch the game?” Marc questioned as he wandered around the living room, taking in the number of candles that made the living room look like it was full of stars. There was a movie on the coffee table, one of his favourite dumb comedies. “Or did you shop for the house?”

“Oh, _fuck off.”_ Kristen said from the kitchen, laughing. She had picked up some French from him over time, specifically insults she could use against him and Max. “A bit of both.”

Marc made his way to see her, smiling at the cleanliness of the kitchen. She had put a vase of fake sunflowers in the middle of his dining table. “And you did the dishes?”

“I can be clean when I want to be.” She walked over to him, a large plate of cookies in her hands. “I thought you’d need some of these tonight.” There was a knowing look on her face, and he knew he wouldn’t have to mention how much he was beating himself up over the loss.

He was suddenly overwhelmed with the amount of love he had for her. He had had several girlfriends over the years, none of which had ever gone through this amount of trouble just for him. None of which made his heart feel like it was swelling from emotion and caring and just pure love. None that had made him feel worth it.

“It’s like I have a housewife.” Marc internally cringed. His brain automatically went to jokes when he was feeling too much too fast.

“Don’t get used to it.” Kristen smirked at him as she headed to the living room.

0—0—0

“Remember the last time we did this?”

They were laying on the floor of his living room, staring up at the fairy lights.

“Is that you hinting that you want some pot?”

Kristen laughed. “Not at all. I put some stuff in the cookies.” She turned onto her stomach to look at him better. The surprise on his face made her laugh harder. “I’m joking.”

_“Tu vas me tuer, femme.”_ He winked before grabbing her in his arms, pulling her on top of him and kissing and biting her neck. She tried her best to push against him, trying to get her hands out of his grasp to tickle his sides.

“You’re not tickling me this time!” He cried as he pulled her hands behind her back. "Crazy woman.”

Kristen stuck her tongue out at him, rolling the both of them onto their sides.

“So, you really like it?”

“The lights and stuff?” She nodded. “Of course, I do. It’s beautiful. It makes it feel like our home.”

Our home. It was official. It had been for awhile, but it hit her all at once. She was home. They, whatever they were, were living together, and it was going great. Having the same schedules, the same work concerns, it had seemed like it would be too much. But they were doing great.

“I think I love you.” It was all she could say in the moment.

“I think I love you, too.”

They stayed on the floor for awhile, recounting her earlier moments on the team and discussing yet another prank Marc was planning for Geno. It all felt so perfect.

Marc eventually sat up, mentioning the team breakfast they would have to go to the next morning. He winked at her as he headed to the bedroom, and Kristen couldn’t contain her smile as she checked her phone that had gone off earlier.

A message from Max reminding them to dress nice for the breakfast. She texted him back a series of emojis that described her displeasure with the whole thing and scrolled down to see another text.

**Sad to not see you on the ice tonight. Pens obviously need you ;) have a good night. Xoxo**

Her hand tensed around the phone. He wasn’t getting the hint. He would be texting her forever, or at least until she answered him back. He would always be stuck in her life, ruining every good thing she tried to keep in it, leeching off of anything positive, just as he had when they were together.

She had to tell Max. Or Tanger. No matter who it was, she had to tell someone, and soon.

0—0—0

_She was laying on the floor. There was dried blood crusted around her nose, and she lazily rubbed at it with the back of her hand. It was afternoon, probably, and the trace amounts of sun coming in through the curtains felt like fire on her bare legs. She would have to get up soon. They would have to get up soon._

_Sitting up slowly, she looked towards Xavier, passed out face first on the couch. There was a baggie on the coffee table beside him, and she moved towards it before pushing him on the shoulder._

_“We have to be down there in two hours.” Her voice was hoarse._

_Xavier groaned and settled himself deeper into the couch, never one to care about time. He would stroll in as late as he wanted, and no one could say anything because he was one of the best players on the team. They needed him no matter what state he was in._

_She emptied out some of the bag onto the glass table, chopping it up. She didn’t want to need this shit. It was the only way the splitting headache would go away, though. The only way she could half-ass attempt to play the game against the Pens that night._

_Her mind went back to the night before as she leaned down to snort up the powder. He had pushed her, hit her, and then they had fucked on the balcony in a drunken stupor. Her nose burned, and she could taste the blood in the back of her throat. She was fucking sick of this._

_The Penguins had been on a roll that season. Kristen had been asked to go after Cooke, their best enforcer. She would need a lot more coke for that shit._

0—0—0

“How exactly is this not a dinner?”

“It’s too early for dinner. It’s brunch.”

“They’re serving fries.”

“And those are basically hashbrowns, correct?”

“I’m going to shove those fries down your throats if you don’t shut up and eat.” Max glared at the couple, causing both to burst out laughing. Marc felt a sense of calm as he looked around at the table full of his brothers, all laughing despite the recent loss. They were playing Washington that night before heading off to New York, and he was excited to push himself. He loved playing their rivals.

Kristen leaned back in her seat, taking a bite of the fries they were sharing. He knew they had been doing things that were pushing their luck. Since she’d moved in they had been even closer than before. Marc was surprised no one else had questioned them. Maybe the team didn’t care.

“I stand by my previous statement. It’s definitely dinner time.”

“You eat dinner at two?” Geno frowned at Kristen.

“On game days, yeah. I can’t skate on a full stomach. Being squished by men 100 pounds heavier than me doesn’t mix well with a belly full of pasta.” She smirked at him and took another bite of her fry. “My poor, fragile body.”

“You like old man.”

“Our old man.” Sid leaned forward to look at the group at the end of the table. “Our old man that’s going to be first star tonight.”

Kristen blushed, and Marc felt his smile grow wider. He was proud of everything she’d done for the team, and the fact that she’d be playing that night made everything better.

“At least third star.” Max smirked, elbowing Marc in the side. _“Flower’s going to be on fire with our little sun back.”_

“I only missed one game.” Kristen spoke, and the look of surprise on Max’s face made the French-Canadians laugh. “Yeah, that’s right, I’m learning.”

Max shook his head. “I know I asked for it, but don’t teach her everything.”

0—0—0

_Cooke looked her up and down, before tilting his head. “Really?”_

_“I said, let’s go.” She was nervous. Her hands were shaking._

_He shrugged before grabbing the neck of her jersey. She thanked god for the lines she’d done in between periods. He wasn’t going to make the first move._

_It was while they were fighting for control that she noticed the look in his eyes. The Pens goalie had moved closer to centre ice. There was concern in his face, the opposite of the cheers that were echoing through the building. They wanted to see her hurt. They wanted to see her laying on the ice, her time finally up. There was a part of her that wanted it, too._

_But he was standing there, silently cheering her on. It was that look that made her dodge Cooke’s punch and land her own. The only reason she didn’t end up sprawled out on the ice before the refs pulled them apart._

_Afterwards, when she was counting the bruises on her body in Xavier’s bathroom, the image of that man was trapped in her brain. What would it be like to play on a team that didn’t numb her to the point of barely being alive? What would it be like to play alongside some of the greats, and that goalie that looked like he truly cared?_

_She sunk down to the floor, her eyes locking on the needle beside the bathtub. Xavier was passed out in the living room. It would take no effort to fall deep into herself, to spiral down in that bathtub and not have to deal with the weight crushing her chest constantly. To let go._

_And she did._

0—0—0

“You look beautiful, by the way.”

Kristen turned to look at Marc in the passenger seat. She suddenly felt self conscious about the high ponytail and floral dress she’d chosen.

“So do you.” She said, taking the keys out of the ignition and looking at the arena. “I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“We’ve played a lot worse. You’ve got this.”

She nodded, but the nerves remained as they walked down the hallway. A cameraman was on one knee, getting an angle on the team strolling in. Her hands made their way down to the edge of her dress, pulling it down uncomfortably before giving the camera a nod. She hadn’t been this nervous for a game since she had first arrived.

“Two best dressed right here!” The man called to them.

“Are we a power couple?” Marc whispered as he held the locker room door open for her.

“I think so.” She winked at him and made her way to her locker.

Most of the team was already there, Tanger’s pump-up playlist booming through the room. Kristen plopped down in her seat, allowing the music to drown out the negative sounds in her head. Schultzy looked up from his place beside her.

“Everything okay?”

His face was pale, his eyes bright red. He looked scared, or angry. “Oh. Yeah… Yeah.”

Kristen frowned, kicking off her heels and placing them beside her. “Are you sure?” He didn’t respond as she unzipped her dress, opting to look across the room to where Marc was sitting. Her heart beat faster. Did he know something?

“I… Yeah.” His voice wavered, still staring off into the distance. Most of the guys had gotten used to her undressing in front of them, feeding off the fact that she was comfortable. She still tried to rush herself, though. Soon enough, her Under Armor was on, and she was able to turn to Justin and have him look back at her.

“Is there anything I can do?” She leaned forward.

“It’s, um… it has to do with someone. I can’t talk about it here.”

The look on his face stopped her from probing for more, instead just nodding her head and getting ready. Marc was joking around, and the sound of his voice took over the room as he chirped Sid for yet another one of his superstitions. It was a moment that would usually make Kristen smile or even join, but her mind was stuck on the idea that Justin knew something about her.

It was a close game. The teams were tied for sixty minutes and even longer, forcing a shootout. Kristen was their last option. Her leg shook as she sat on the bench, and she couldn’t stop tapping her stick against the floor in the rhythm of a song Tanger had played in the locker room. Geno skated in front of the bench, warming up for his shot. He looked less nervous than she felt.

“I get this.” He smiled at her. The crowd cheered as Marc made a save, and he made his way to centre ice.

She watched as he calmly made his way down the ice, dancing with the puck before deking and shooting on his backhand. The puck trickled in slowly, and the goal light went off. Sid jumped up, and the love in his eyes made Kristen look towards Marc. He had glanced over at the bench, catching her gaze. She nodded at him and smiled slightly. He nodded in return.

Ovechkin was at centre ice, and she looked away before he shot. The consecutive groan from the crowd made her stomach twist.

“Play her now.”

There was a tap on her shoulder, making her look up from her skates.

“You’re on.” Dan nodded towards the ice.

Jumping onto the ice felt automatic, and her stomach twisted again at the sight of the goaltender in front of her. The ice never felt longer, and the presence of the crowd made her feel like she was sinking into a pit. Her vision got blurry. The ref nodded at her.

Her feet carried her forward, and she tried to mimic Geno’s moves. Sid had mentioned his glove side was weak, and she tried to plan a shot in the quick seconds it took her to get to the net.

Suddenly, she was too close to the crease, and she panicked, sending the puck off of the tip of her blade and into the five hole of the Caps goalie.

The goal light didn’t go on as she skated her way back to the bench, and her stomach dropped more at the faces of her teammates. They weren’t mad, but they were strategizing, something she never wanted them to have to do. They were preparing to lose the game because of her.

“Fuck. I’m sorry.” The words came out as Kristen sat down, to no one in particular.

“Can’t get all, Stew.” Geno patted her shoulder and turned to Marc. “He save this.”

She shrugged but didn’t look up. Geno had seemed too okay with the potential loss, although he had been able to get some aggression out with a couple of different guys. He would say that they had chirped him when asked, but it was because they had been chirping Sid.

It felt like forever before the crowd made any sort of noise. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and the crowd cheered.

“Stew!” Geno pulled her up from the bench. “Sometime is not just about one person.” He patted her helmet and jumped over the boards.

She stood at the bench for a bit, looking up at the scoreboard and the replay of Marc’s amazing save.

0—0—0

Geno’s words echoed through her head until she was able to get Schultzy alone. She walked up to him as he was wrapping a towel around his waist and leaned against the shower wall. “Tell me.”

He looked confused, then embarrassed. “Oh, about… that?”

“Why don’t you want to talk about it?” Kristen forced herself to relax her shoulders and stop frowning. The last thing she wanted was for him to feel bad about telling her a secret. They were teammates, after all.

“It’s… not great.” He ran his hand through his hair. “It’s about, you know, Xavier.” 

“Oh.”

“I got a text last night, random number. They wanted to know my thoughts about him coming back? And then he DM’d me, wanted me to tell you to answer him? And I wasn’t sure if you wanted to, if you guys were talking again? Or getting back together? But he said some things to me when I told him to just message you about it, and I don’t know if they’re true or not?” Justin took a deep breath, his usual silent yet happy demeanor replaced by a shaky voice and nervous hand gestures. “He said you were… seeing someone on the team? And threatened me.”

“Oh, Schultzy… Justin, I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not worried about myself, Kristen. Or mad at you. I’m worried about your safety, honestly.”

She felt her breath falter, and the concern in his eyes made her want to run away. Xavier wasn’t clean, he hadn’t changed. He would hurt whoever he could to get what he wanted. He was leaking a secret that she thought wouldn’t come out for a lot longer. “I’m sorry you’re involved in this.”

“Like I said, I’m not mad at you. I want you to be safe.” He pulled on a pair of sweatpants, and brought her over to the kitchen, motioning for her to sit down. “So, we need to talk about this.”

“There’s not much to say. He probably told you everything.”

“In all honesty, he sounds like a psychopath and I don’t trust a word of it.” He handed her a mug of tea and sat down across from her. “So, it’s your turn to tell me.”

Kristen took a sip, thankful that all the guys were aware of her ginger obsession. She hadn’t planned to tell Justin the story of her life, but it almost made sense that it wouldn’t be someone who was in on her secret relationship. It felt like a sign that it was time to make it not-so-secret.

“I am seeing someone on the team. Xavier’s not okay with it, for whatever reason. He’s been texting me for awhile, I thought if I just ignored him he would eventually get the hint. I was going to tell someone, but… I don’t know. I just didn’t want to bring that stuff into the room, you know? I want it to be over so bad.” She felt tears of frustration fall down her face. “I don’t know how why he would ask you about this. I’m so sorry that you’re involved in this, it’s the last thing I wanted.”

He looked at her, a slight frown on his face. She couldn’t handle the way he was watching her.

“I don’t want to be that person anymore. This place… it already feels like home. You guys already feel like family.”

Justin nodded, his frown replaced with a small smile. “Well… Who are you seeing?”

“You really can’t guess?” Kristen wiped her eyes and let out a small laugh. “I thought it would be obvious.”

“Wait.” He lowered his voice before continuing. “Is it Max?”

“Max? Really?”

He raised his hands in surrender. “You guys hang out a lot!”

“God, no. No, it’s not him.”

Kristen took another sip of tea as he thought. Her tears were replaced with occasional giggles as Justin opened his mouth, then shook his head.

“You actually can’t guess?”

“Hey, I didn’t wake up thinking I’d have to do this today!” Justin laughed. “I kinda figured the huge game against our rivals was enough drama.”

“There’s never enough drama, apparently.” Kristen rolled her eyes.

Marc walked into the kitchen, giving her a smile and Justin a noogie before pulling some Gatorade out of the fridge. Justin’s eyes widened as he looked between the two of them.

“Wait…”

Marc frowned at him. “What?"

“No…” Justin pointed towards him and looked at Kristen. She paused for a moment, biting her lip in thought. What was the worst that could happen? “It’s Flower, isn’t it?”

She glanced at Marc. He leaned against the table, raising his eyebrow. “We’re telling rookies now?” The smirk on his face made her grin back at him.

“Oh my god.” Justin got out of his chair, his eyes still wide. “Oh my god, really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I can get pretty women, too.”

“Dude… Really?”

“I think we broke his brain.” Kristen laughed.

“No, no. It’s great! I mean… wow. Congrats, guys.” Justin ran his hand through his hair again, still looking back and forth between the couple. The stress from their previous conversation was completely gone.

“You can’t tell anyone else, though.” Kristen waved her finger at him. “It’s not common knowledge.”

“Am I the only one?”

“Well, Geno and Sid, Tanger, Talbo, Duper. That’s all, though.” Marc opened his Gatorade, looking around the kitchen. “At this point we should just tell everyone.”

Kristen laughed, but the look on his face was serious. She knew he wanted the guys to know, he had since she had moved in. His excuse was how obvious it was becoming. It wasn’t that, though. It wasn’t a strain on their relationship, but their passion had made its way onto the ice and watching each other get hit or chirped at without retaliating was getting harder and harder. She was surprised that Vancouver hadn’t let their secret out altogether.

Justin stood up from the table, congratulating the two again before looking pointedly at Kristen. “You need to tell someone. Or, I can tell someone for you. Either way.”

She nodded. Her happiness remained, but the fear she had felt earlier in the conversation came back. It was time to take charge.

0—0—0

_“You’re going to kill yourself if you stay here.”_

_Kevin had cornered her after seeing the bruises on the inside of her elbow. Rick had passed away not long before then, and everyone’s wounds were still fresh. He wasn’t about to lose another teammate, and she knew that._

_“I’ll get some help. After the season’s over.”_

_“No. You need to go now.”_

_Kristen’s hands were clenched, fingernails digging into her palms. Kevin reached towards her, taking her hands in his and holding them open._

_“You can’t do this to yourself anymore. You just… can’t.” He looked away from her as someone walked behind them. The look on his face told her it was Xavier. He waited until the other man walked away before continuing. “I know you don’t want to leave him. I know you think this is the best you can do. But it’s not. There’s a reason you’re here, and it’s not to waste away in some fucked up relationship. Please, get out of here.”_

_That was the moment that made her leave. Not the fact that the man she thought she was in love with had hit her the night before, and she’d gotten in a fight that game just to hide the bruises. Not the addiction that had numbed her to the point of disrepair. It was the desperation in Kevin’s face, the longing for her to leave the team, not because she was bad, but because it was killing her. It sounded melodramatic, but it was the truth._


	12. Yellow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just gotta say this is my favourite chapter in the whole series so far

“I ordered a pizza.”

Kristen jumped at the voice coming from her couch. Max popped his head up, smirking at her shocked expression.

“What? Just because you live here now doesn’t mean I won’t show up. Actually, it makes it more likely. I get to spend time with my two best friends.”

She shook her head at him, pushing his legs off of the couch to make room for herself. She and Marc had been in the shower, and she cringed at the thought of Max hearing them. Although, he heard them enough on road trips.

“You two have fun?” He smirked.

“Do you really have to ask?”

He laughed, scrunching his face up in mock disgust.

The two sat and watched TV while Marc got ready, Kristen complaining about his choice in pizza (why would anyone put pineapple and olives on a pizza?) and Max filling her in on his love life. He had met someone on Tinder, someone who had no idea who he was and blonde hair, his only requirements.

“So, double date?” Kristen joked, changing the channel as soon as hockey came up.

“Date?”

“For someone who planned my love life perfectly, you’re pretty dumb. Of course, a date. How else are you supposed to meet her?”

Max paused his pizza-chewing. “I… invited her to a game?”

“You invited her somewhere you can't talk to her.”

“Well, not technically. I mean, she doesn’t like hockey.”

“Oh, even better.” Kristen stood up, grabbing the empty pizza box and heading to the kitchen. “Next off day, we’re all going out. Invite her to the café or something, it worked for us.”

Marc walked in then, motioning for Kristen to help him with his tie. He didn’t have to look in the living room to know that Max was there. _“Bonjour,_ fuckface.”

“Hey, cutie.” Max chuckled. _“Bonne douche?”_

_“Mieux que tu n'auras jamais.”_ Marc smiled, turning his head away from Kristen struggling with his tie to wink at his friend.

“Why do you have to get so dressed up to go on a plane?” She cursed the tie before motioning for Max to replace her. Her jeans and t-shirt seemed too casual, but the blazer she would be putting over it felt more formal. 

“Public image, _jeune.”_ Max tied the piece of fabric effortlessly, causing Kristen to flip him off.

The men joked around before they had to head to the airport, leaving Kristen to her thoughts as she pretended to watch the news.

She hadn’t received a text from Xavier, but the idea that he was targeting people she was close to made her anxious. She knew what he was capable of when he wasn’t sober. Justin had offered to talk to Mario and get him kicked out of the league, but that seemed too intense. They had had to deal with her personal problems for too long.

Her thoughts kept her occupied until she was seated on the plane, Geno beside her. He was used to her silence, and simply nodded before he sat down.

“G?” She didn’t know what she was going to say when she opened her mouth, but it didn’t take her long to realize he would be the one she’d confide in.

“Stew?”

“Can I tell you something?” She turned towards him, and he set down his phone. The plane made its way into the sky.

“Course.” He patted her leg.

“I… don’t know how to start.”

“Just start.”

She snorted at his bluntness, making him smile along with her as she continued. “I’ve been getting texts from someone. And I started ignoring them, but now they’re bugging people I’m close to. I just… I need it to stop. And someone’s offered to make it stop, but not in the way that I think it should?”

“Who is it?” Geno looked concerned.

Kristen looked down at her feet, and his hand was back on her knee in an attempt to comfort her. “I, uh… think you know.”

“I do.” He nodded. “We worried about you. Need you safe.”

“I know. I just want to be able to handle this myself, you know?”

“Yes, but we’re team. Help each other. I talk to Mario with you.”

Kristen looked up at him. She tried to hide the defeat she felt. Honestly, she felt more than defeated. It was the opposite of feeling numb, however. It was like there were too many emotions, so many that there was a part of her that longed for those times she lost herself on the bathroom floor. These were all things she didn’t want to, or couldn’t, tell Geno. Instead, she smiled at him, patting his hand.

“After road trip.” He raised his eyebrows, searching for acceptance in her face.

“Yes. Okay. Thank you, G.”

“Anything for _моя маленькая сестра._ I play games now, watch.”

0—0—0

Xavier was the last one out of the locker room. It was a first for him, usually running out at the first chance he got. There was a baggie waiting for him at home, but his mind was somewhere else.

He knew what he was doing was wrong. But he was desperate, he needed Kristen to be a part of his life again. Even if it was just seeing that she’d read his texts or hearing about her from her teammates. Rehab hadn’t worked (even though he was using a lot less than he used to) and he knew it was because he hadn’t had any closure with her. Even if he was the one that had dumped her. He didn’t remember it, anyway.

And he wasn’t jealous of Fleury. He wanted them to be happy. It was his own fault he had fucked up his marriage, his relationship with his kids. He didn’t want another relationship. He wanted her to talk to him.

He pulled his phone out, but immediately put it back in his pocket. He only texted her when he was high. The morning after he would read his texts and regret them but would never apologize. He wasn’t that kind of person.

Hockey had become tedious after leaving Halifax. He missed Doug, he missed being the best player in the league. It used to be that this was truly his life, rivaling even Crosby with his passion, but the drugs and women started again, bigger and better than last time. Then he lost himself.

Xavier made his way out of the room, fixing his crooked blazer as he entered the hallway. One more month and he would be playing against the Pens. He would get to see her smile light up the arena in person once again. It was the one thing that was keeping him going.

0—0—0

Marc’s eyes were glued on Kristen during the locker room talk. He knew that he should be paying attention, taking in as much information as he could, but what Geno had said to him in the airport was stuck in his head. The mention of Xavier’s name always left him in a strange mood.

He had been sure that Xavier was leaving Kristen alone. The phone call, the furious French, Kristen curled up in a ball for the rest of the night, he thought that would be it. They would see each other occasionally during games and that would be it. The idea that she hadn’t told him everything, whether it was in fear that he would do something or that she would potentially want him back, was driving him crazy.

His thoughts followed him onto the ice, and it took every ounce of his will power to focus on the game happening around him. 

It wasn’t a close game by any means, the Rangers somehow ahead by three by the time the second period rolled around. It was rare that Marc got pulled, but Dan could probably tell how far away his thoughts were that night. Being able to actually watch the game was nice, but the frustration on the bench was sinking under his skin.

“We’re fucked.” Tanger muttered from beside him. He took his helmet off, shaking his hair and sharing his sweat with the majority of his teammates.

Marc cringed, and the defenceman looked over.

“Not because of you. They’re just the better team tonight.”

“Positivity. That’s a new one from you.” Marc smirked at him. Tanger stuck his tongue out and jumped over the boards.

0—0—0

Sid’s head was down, eyes locked on his skate laces. It was easier than looking at the scoreboard.

It wasn’t like he couldn’t handle a loss. He’d had plenty of those in his lifetime. It never got easier, though. His team deserved to win every game, and they deserved a captain to lead them there. With a loss under his belt, he felt like he wasn’t the best captain that he could be.

Geno was looking at him. He could feel the familiar gaze from miles away. “We still come back from this.”

Sid shrugged and forced a smile at his better half. “We’re playing the best we can. That’s all I want.” He knew Geno didn’t believe him, but he was kind enough not to mention anything.

His eyes wandered to Kristen, who was leaning as far forward as she could on the bench. She wanted to win this as much as he did.

“Since when the fuck did they get so good? I wasn’t gone for that long, was I?” She turned to look at the two of them. “I need to get out there.”

“Patience, _young one.”_ Geno nudged her with his elbow. Sid found himself smiling at the term he used, one of the many random words he’d learned in Russian. Kristen nodded at the them before turning back to the ice.

He allowed himself to glance at Marc. He was watching Kristen, the same look on his face Sid probably had when he first saw Geno. Love, admiration. Lust. The best parts of a new romance all wrapped up in one tiny smile. He missed that.

Although, it wasn’t like him and Geno weren’t in love. They were still very much involved in each other’s lives. Hell, they spent every day together, all day. They had gotten into a comfortable routine after their many years together, and that was almost better than the honeymoon phase, the sneaking around. Sneaking around was their regular now. And that was fine, Geno would never be able to come out and that was that. It would be nice to hold hands when they went out for dinner, or not have to leave in separate cars. But that wasn’t how it was.

The tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his funk, and his legs automatically brought him onto the ice. Geno skated up behind him as they headed to the faceoff.

_“Love you.”_

It was those words that propelled the Pens to a lead with five minutes left in the period. He would win for Geno every time, if he could.

0—0—0

“That was beautiful, boys!” Kristen yelled as she walked into the locker room, bouncing up and down. She couldn’t contain the excitement within her. She had assists on every one of Sid’s goals, bringing her up on the points board dramatically. Marc was finally smiling again. Life was good.

“I agree. Job well done.” Dan chuckled as she made her way to her locker. He jumped into an inspirational speech, but Kristen’s energy was too high to fully listen. “Anyway, keep playing this way and we’ll have no problem. Get some rest, we’re on the road tomorrow morning.”

The men nodded, making conversation and jumping around the room. A win on the road was always a good mood booster.

Kristen joked around with Schultzy for a bit as she got changed, letting the tight braid out of her hair. “Dude, it’s the Islanders. I forget they exist 80 percent of the time.”

“I’m just saying, you were surprised tonight. The game’s changed.” Justin shrugged.

“I was gone for a year. Why does everyone bring that up?” The edge in her voice came out accidentally. She immediately laughed it off, but the look on Justin’s face showed he was embarrassed. “I mean, I know I act like an old man, but trust me, I stayed informed while I was gone.”

Justin remained quiet as they both got back into their clothes. Kristen pulled on her heels, cursing her choice of six inches. The last thing anyone wanted to do after playing a game was walk around in heels afterwards. It wasn’t until she had stood up that he looked up at her again.

“Did you talk to someone?”

“About?”

“You know.” He looked at her pointedly. “Should I still be worried about this?”

“Oh.” Kristen ran her hand along the side of her arm. “No. No, you don’t have to worry. After the road trip, things will be back to normal.”

Justin nodded, the grin making its way back onto his face slowly. “You are an old man.”

“And you’re the baby.”

She pulled her hair up into a bun. The reminder that she would have to talk about Xavier, even with her loyal protector beside her, made her stomach turn. She was afraid to check her phone, in case their win prompted another unwelcome text.

“You coming out tonight?” Cooke walked by the two of them, somehow managing to ruffle both of their heads before heading towards the door.

“Yes, sir!” Schultzy jumped up, pulling his jacket on. He looked at Kristen expectantly.

She glanced at Marc. There was a part of her that knew she needed to sit down with him and explain everything, talk things through with someone who completely understood her. Another part of her knew she needed to spend some time with the whole team and get her mind off everything. He was joking around with Max, which made her think the latter was the better option.

“Yeah, probably.”

Justin ruffled her hair more before running off to join the rest of the guys.

Kristen continued to get her things together, taking her time. Max and Marc could talk all night if you let them, but that was to her advantage that night. The less Xavier talk she had to make, the better. She buttoned her jacket up as slowly as she could, watching the men joke around.

It wasn’t long before she had to check her phone, texts from Geno already warning her she was late for their dinner. No texts from Xavier, making it a little easier for her to interrupt the Frenchmen.

“Hey, we better head out, boys.”

“We’re going out?” Marc had a smile on his face, but it faltered slightly when he looked at her.

“I mean, if you want.” She toyed with her hair, the sudden tension causing her to look to Max. “Dinnertime, you know. Bonding.”

Marc remained silent as the three walked outside, Max calling a cab being the only conversation that was made until they got to the bar and grill. Kristen felt her stomach turn once again, this time the idea of Marc slipping away stuck in her head. She was beyond frustrated by the time she sat down at the long table, unsure of what she did to deserve his uncharacteristic silent treatment.

“Ordered you some salad.” Geno patted her shoulder. “Easy stomach.”

“Thanks, G.” It was hard for her to smile back as she watched Marc plop himself far away from her seat. Geno watched him warily, but silently went back to his steak.

Kristen dug into her own food. She tried her best to engage in conversation, but every time she heard Marc’s chuckle from down the table her throat closed.

“It’s not like we weren’t trying. I just think we needed to wake up earlier.” Sid’s voice broke her out of her funk. “We played real Pens’ hockey in the last period.”

“Enough hockey, Sid.” Geno rolled his eyes, making Kristen chuckle softly.

“What? This is stuff that will help us tomorrow!”

“Then talk about tomorrow.”

Kristen caught a glimpse of Geno’s hand on Sid’s thigh, a small caress before pulling his phone out of his pocket and showing their half of the table a dog video. She glanced at Marc, already longing for his arm around her shoulders and his kisses on her forehead. Whatever was happening between them was stupid and small compared to the fun they had together. However, he was busy laughing with Tanger. It was the first time he wasn’t looking at her when she looked at him.

“You like?” Geno motioned to her salad, which was half-eaten. His concern with her eating had started since they first started talking. She had admitted her struggles with maintaining her weight due to her chronic stomach issues, forcing him to feed her whenever they were together. His dairy-free Russian options were limited, but he always tried his best. He had obviously gone out of his way to choose a salad with a vinaigrette versus the usual creamy dressings.

“Yes, it’s great. Thank you.” She said, patting his shoulder and picking her fork up again. Not eating wouldn’t fix the anxiety she was feeling about her relationship.

The dinner ended quickly, the team not looking forward to their early morning start. Kristen avoided Marc’s group for as long as humanly possible, but the awkward room situation eventually happened, much to her dismay.

The two stood in front of her room, Max basically running into his room to give them time alone.

“Can we, uh… Talk?” Marc sighed.

“Yeah.” Kristen pulled her key card out, shoulders tense. It was rare that Marc looked so serious.

She sat down on her bed, kicking her heels off and patting the space beside her. Marc ignored the invitation, looking around the room before settling on standing in front of her.

“What’s up?”

He sighed again. “I… why won’t you talk to me?”

“What do you mean?” Her hands were clenching. “Talk about what?” She knew what, but a girl could dream.

“Xavier. Geno told me he’s still fucking with you.”

Kristen shrugged.

“What does that mean?” Marc mocked her shrug, his hidden anger from that night obviously starting to boil up. “How am I supposed to take that?”

“It means I don’t know, Marc. We’re fixing things when we get back home.”

“We? What ‘we’ are we talking about here?” He was leaning closer to her now, and she got a sudden flashback to Xavier’s power stance, the one thing he could always use against her.

“Me and G. He offered to talk to Mario with me.”

The two looked at each other for a moment, Kristen out of words and Marc too full of them.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice broke the silence, wavering slightly. _“Mon Dieu,_ out of everyone to talk to, why not me?”

Kristen stood up, pulling off the dress that suddenly felt too tight on her chest. “I don’t know. I guess I just…” She spoke before thinking about it. “I just didn’t want you involved.”

Marc opened his mouth, then closed it again. It was either shock or anger that was making his face red. Kristen immediately regretted her brutal honesty.

“By that I mean I don’t want you dealing with my past relationships. You shouldn’t need to.”

“Did it never cross your mind that I want to deal with your bullshit? That I signed up for that?” His voice was louder than she liked, and she cringed.

“I guess not.” She searched through her suitcase in hopes that it would alleviate the feeling of his disappointment in her.

_“Pourquoi pas la baise?”_ Marc grabbed her arm, pulling her to face him. “Why not?”

His grip was tight, and Kristen pulled her arm away harshly. “This is obviously striking a chord with you that I don’t want to touch on right now.” She couldn’t help herself from rolling her eyes and turning away to grab a robe from the closet. “Can we just talk about this tomorrow?”

“No, we can’t! This is what’s wrong with you, this is why things keep fucking up in your life! _Vous évitez toujours la merde dure!”_

“If you’re going to talk shit about me can you at least do it in a language I understand?”

Kristen pulled the robe tightly around her, fighting away the tears of frustration that were threatening to escape. She needed him to let things go, but they were past the point of her saying anything close to that. His rising voice did nothing but fuel her anger and fear.

_“Pourquoi ne me fais-tu pas confiance? Ne vois-tu pas que je te donnerais tout? Tout de moi?”_ Marc threw his suitcase on the bed, shoving the clothing he had placed in the chest of drawers hours before back into his bag. He continued to angrily speak in French, although the volume of his voice had gone down significantly.

Kristen remained by the closet, watching him leave, unable to say what she needed to.

0—0—0

Sid and Geno had ordered in cheesecake, laughing at a stupid reality show. It was nice to spend time alone after a stressful game.

“I think this is the best hotel dessert I’ve ever had.” Sid licked his lips, grinning at his boyfriend.

Geno shrugged in mock dissatisfaction, making Sid giggle once again. He pushed his plate to the side, kissing the larger man on the cheek.

It was then that they heard the yelling.

Sid leaned back, closer to the noise, and frowned. “Is that…?”

Geno muted the TV, raising his finger for Sidney to remain quiet. It didn’t take him long to nod his head.

The French cursing continued, replacing the sounds of real housewives that had filled their room before. Sid wished they had one of the French Canadians with them to translate.

“Stew.” Geno spoke. It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Sid knew what he was asking.

“It’s okay. It’s probably just an argument.” He smiled, but there was concern in his voice.

“Should check. Need to make sure.”

Geno started to get up, pulling a robe on over his boxers. The sounds continued, none of which sounded like a female voice. Sid found himself standing up, grabbing Geno’s hand as they headed towards the door. Things had seemed fine at dinner, if anything the two had seemed tired. He knew how it felt to feel trapped, unable to have time away from the one person you were sick of seeing. But that had only happened a couple of times, and he and Geno had fixed it quickly. Still, it was rare for Flower to raise his voice.

Just as Geno opened the door, there was the sound of one closing. Sid spied Marc walking back to Max’s room, suitcase dragging behind him. He looked at the couple, but said nothing before closing the door on them.

“Should we…” Sid motioned to Kristen’s room, but Geno shook his head, turning back to their room.

“We finish dessert, go to bed.”

0—0—0

Max was getting undressed as Marc swung the door open, avoiding eye contact as he headed to the mini fridge.

“Dude, knock. I could’ve left the ginger ale beside the door.” Max joked, turning his body away as he pulled on a pair of sweatpants.

Marc grunted, and was pouring himself a glass of whiskey when Max looked back at him.

_“You okay, Flower?”_

Another grunt.

_“You need to stay here tonight?”_

A nod and a grunt.

_“Don’t drink all of that. I’ll have to pay for it.”_

0—0—0

His head was pounding as soon as he opened his eyes. Marc hadn’t drunk like that in years, with the intention of getting fucked up. Now, here he was at five in the morning with a splitting headache and his best friend hanging over him.

_“I got you some McDonald’s. Idiot.”_ Max’s smirk made Marc want to punch him. “You have an hour to get your shit together.”

Max had placed a breakfast sandwich and Marc’s sunglasses on the end of his bed. He put the sunglasses on, squinting at his friend.

“Are we going to talk about this?”

Marc shook his head, instead biting into the disgusting yet tasty food. Max shrugged, pulling his blazer on before leaving the room.

The last thing Marc remembered was leaving. He had planned for the talk to end in sex, or at least some cuddling. Instead, his emotions had taken control, memories of past relationships burning holes in his judgement. He needed her to trust him. He needed her to need him.

He wasn’t jealous of Geno, she was allowed to have friends. He wanted her to have friends. But certainly, she could’ve talked to him about the situation at least a tiny bit. Just enough to keep him informed. He hated that he had to hear about something that was tearing the love of his life apart from someone else.

It didn’t take him long to realize these were all things he should have said to the night before. He had no idea how things were going to go that day, but he knew it wouldn’t be easy.

0—0—0

Kristen woke up to Max’s face above her. For some reason, she wasn’t surprised.

“I brought you a breakfast wrap. Safe to eat.” He motioned to her bedside table. “We need to talk.”

She sat up slowly, a headache coming on from lack of sleep. She reached for the plate, avoiding Max’s intense gaze.

“So...”

Nodding, Kristen swallowed her bite of food. “I don’t even know. It just… came out all at once. As soon as I mentioned the dinner it just snowballed. I’ve never seen him like that.” Her voice wavered as she continued. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Max. I have no idea.”

The tears came forward, and Max grabbed her plate, placing it back on the table. He leaned in, holding her tightly as she cried.

“Things were going so well.”

His hug tightened even more, voice muffled in her hair. “It was a stupid argument, whatever it was about. It happens to the best of us.”

Kristen shook her head. “It was more than that. I fucked up.”

“Then fix it.”

She leaned back, looking into his eyes. There was love there, brotherly love. She was overwhelmed with emotion. “You deserve happiness, Max. I hope you know that.”

He shrugged coyly. _“C'est difficile parfois._ Now, eat up.”

0—0—0

_Xavier’s hands were on her waist, pulling her closer to him as the music pounded. He was whispering French in her ear, things that she was sure would get them in trouble if anyone heard. It was the All Star weekend._

_He had offered her E on the cab ride over, promising she would be okay as long as she was beside him. It felt possessive, the way his hand had grasped hers in the backseat, but she took the pill anyway because she was young and deserved to let go for a night. Never mind that she let go every night since she’d met him._

_Ovechkin was beside them, and, at some point, he offered them shots. It crossed her mind that she shouldn’t be dancing so close to Xavier, it must have been obvious what was happening, but the liquor warmed her body and distracted her from her worries. Who the fuck cared?_

_She didn’t remember walking to the patio, pulling out a cigarette. Or the man standing over her offering water, who had the same accent as her lover. She probably called him babe._

_“It’s wild in there.” He was sitting next to her, and he didn’t look anything like Xavier._

_“Oh my god, you’re the goalie.” She waved her cigarette in his face. “You watched my fight with Cookie.”_

_He chuckled. She was higher than she thought._

_“You care. I can tell.”_

_“I do. It was a good fight.” He moved the glass of water to her lips. “You need this.”_

_“I don’t even know why I took this stuff. I don’t need a drug to want to fuck.” She giggled at her bluntness, the way the goalie’s face was turning red. “I’m killing my teeth.”_

_He handed her some gum, taking the cigarette she handed to him and putting it out._

_“You’re a saint.” She touched his cheek, downing the rest of the water before popping the piece of gum in her mouth. “Good man.”_

_She didn’t notice the goalie watch her skip away, but she had sworn she would remember his face the next day._

0—0—0

Kristen was silent in the locker room. She and Marc hadn’t talked that day, and now they were avoiding eye contact before the game. It didn’t bode well for her playing confidence, and definitely didn’t bode well for the conversation that was bound to come.

Justin tried his best to start a conversation, bringing back her previous chirp on the Islanders, but she didn’t bite. It was impossible to keep her mind off the way Marc had looked at her the night before, the pure anger that was radiating off of him. And the discussion she would have to have with Mario when they got home.

It wasn’t until she was on the bench that some of her anxiety subsided, replaced with the urge to score. Her points streak was going strong, but she needed to prove herself again. She was more than just a girlfriend, or a novelty. She was her own person, who could stay on the team regardless of her relationships. She was a hockey player.

The tap on her shoulder eventually came, and the puck was dropped.

The puck ended up in the corner, forcing a fight. Kristen found herself directly in the middle, trying her best to keep her head up while also attempting to kick the puck towards anyone with a Pens jersey. The Islanders’ goalie was hugging the post, looking strong, and Sid’s eventual shot on net was stopped with ease. The whistle was blown, and Dan called a line change.

“Fuck, man.”

Geno turned to her. “Hmm?”

“I need to score tonight.”

“We pass to you. Don’t worry.” He nudged her as they sat down.

It was impossible for Kristen to look when the puck was in their end, not wanting to look at Marc. She didn’t need anything to throw her off her game.

It felt like forever before she was back on the ice. Tanger passed her the puck from the blue line, and she didn’t hesitate to shoot it directly at the net, Geno’s giant body blocking the goaltender’s vision.

The red lights went on, and she was enveloped in a hug from all of her linemates, including Kris, who patted her on the head before heading to the bench. Her eyes found their way to the other end of the rink. Marc had turned away.

The second period was rougher, the Islanders’ frustration making its way onto the ice. Kristen dreaded leaving the bench, if only for the fact she would be getting destroyed by men three times her size.

Her fears were justified. It felt like all of the players were targeting her as soon as she stepped on the ice. Every time she had the puck she tensed her body, awaiting the beating that was sure to come. Geno tried his best to take most of the hits, but it was impossible for him to defend both her and Sid. The other team wanted to win, and it was obvious they were going to do everything in their power.

Kristen found herself in the defensive end, keeping an eye on the player beside her. There was a scrimmage right beside the net, and she cringed as an Islander crosschecked Tanger to grab the puck. She moved closer, ready to fill in, when she noticed where her teammate had landed.

He had been pushed against the ice, his body across Marc’s leg. He wasn’t hurt, but his skate was caught in the netting.

She waved her arm towards the ref, pointing at his foot, but the play continued.

“Are you kidding? He’s stuck in the fucking net, he can’t move!” She moved closer to the man, making sure he could hear her. Marc glanced over in desperation, pushing Tanger off of his leg and launching himself towards the puck and the jumping Islander in front of the crease.

His skate hit Marc’s helmet, knocking it clear off of his head and causing him to fall back. Kristen felt herself freeze.

He stayed on the ice, and she could see the grimace on his face even from where she was. Tanger had gotten up, and was pushing the opposing player farther away from the net. She longed to skate over, to lean down beside Marc and make sure he was okay, but her frustrations came back to her. It was the worst timing, but she couldn’t make herself go over to him. Instead, she skated back to the bench, aware of Geno’s stare as she sat down.

Eventually, Marc got up (not that she looked, Sid had updated her as her eyes remained on the floor). The game continued. She closed her eyes during the entire intermission, and the final buzzer finally sounded.

“Looks like your chirps were correct.” Schultzy said from behind her as they headed to Marc.

She smiled, but still had nothing to say.

The line went by quickly, and it wasn’t long before she was in front of him. He had taken his helmet off, and it became impossible for Kristen to look away.

There were large bags under his eyes, and he looked pale. No sleep the night before. His freckles contrasted his pale skin perfectly, even at his worst he still looked like a God. She stopped in front of him, unable to move.

“What?” He frowned at her. Even then, he looked beautiful.

She wanted to say that she was sorry, that she regretted the previous night. That she would rather argue with him than with anyone else. That she did trust him, she had just been afraid somewhere in her soul that he would realize how fucked up she truly was. But she couldn’t. She knew she needed to do what she felt was right in her gut, stop doubting herself.

She glanced at Max, who was watching on from behind the net. Justin was saying something to her, but she couldn’t hear anything but the sound of Marc’s heavy breathing in front of her.

This was it. This was the time. This was how she was going to fix things.

A deep breath.

His frown had turned into a look of worry.

“I know I love you.” She murmured, so only Marc, Max, and Justin could hear.

She grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him.


	13. Dreams

He was sure his heart stopped.

This wasn’t real. She wasn’t kissing him there, in front of thousands, on national TV.

His hands found their way to her face, pulling her in closer. Even though he was internally freaking out, God, he missed her.

Kristen pulled away slowly, and her smile made his heart melt. All his frustration was gone. Only love.

It was the crowd cheering that brought them back to reality. Kristen’s smile disappeared, her face going pale. She looked like she was going to pass out. When Marc looked up at the jumbotron and saw his own face looking back at him, he felt like he was going to pass out.

“Holy shit.” Kristen’s eyes darted around, then found their way back to him. “Fuck.”

He wanted to say something comforting, but was speechless. Was there a protocol for situations like this?

Schultzy slowly moved Kristen out of the way. “Um… Good game. Congrats? Um…” He smiled nervously.

Marc looked down at the line of players in front of him. They were all staring, motionless, even the members that knew about his secret relationship. Obviously, there wasn’t a protocol for something like this.

“Come on, guys.” Sid spoke up, motioning for the team to head to the locker room. Marc wasn’t sure whether he would rather stand in front of a crowd of shocked strangers or be in a small room with a potentially pissed off team. He could tell Kristen felt the same.

_“Merde.”_

0—0—0

Dan didn’t need to tell the couple to come to his office. They both headed that way immediately, barely taking the time to remove their kits and throw on some clothes. Press was filling the hallway, but neither of them seemed to care. Marc had his hand on the small of her back, and that was all Kristen needed to keep her head high.

She slowly closed the door as they entered the office. Dan had his hands folded on the desk in front of him, and he motioned to the chairs.

“I don’t know where to start, honestly.”

Kristen caught the gaze of Mario, who was standing beside him. His face was serious.

“What… was that?” Dan raised his hands, his confusion taking over the serious vibe of the room.

“Um…” Kristen looked to Marc, who had his head down. His arm was around the back of her chair, shielding her from the noise that was coming from the hallway.

“When did this start?” Mario spoke up.

“Some months ago.” Marc looked up at the men. “It was out of nowhere.”

Kristen nodded. “It just kind of… happened.”

“We were going to tell you. We just wanted to make sure this was for real.”

“And it is?” Mario was surprisingly calm, understanding. Kristen had the sudden realization that he might already know about Sid and Geno.

“Yes.”

Mario nodded, and Dan kept staring. There wasn’t much for either of them to say in that moment, and Kristen knew that. It wasn’t as if they’d been caught, it wasn’t damage control. It was honesty time, which was both better and worse. 

“We’ll need to discuss this back in Pittsburgh. Press release, all of it. As for right now…” Mario looked to Dan for confirmation, who nodded. “I think it’s best if you two avoid speaking to them for now. Until we have a plan.”

Kristen nodded, feeling like a schoolkid in the principal’s office. She knew the real lecture would be coming when they got home, which didn’t bode well for her Xavier discussion.

“Stay in here until we’re ready to leave. Dana will let you know.” Dan stood up, heading to the door. “Crazy kids.” He shook his head as he and Mario left.

And suddenly, her and Marc were alone. She leaned against him, and his arm tightened around her.

“I’m so sorry.”

“I know I love you, too.”

They both spoke at the same time, Marc’s voice catching her off guard, causing her to sit up straighter and look at him.

“Really?”

_“Oui._ Thank you.” He caressed her cheek. “I’m sorry about everything. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I wanted to.” She said, and it was true. She didn’t want to hide anymore.

Marc pulled her closer again, his hand running through her damp hair. She looked down at her clothes, a simple shirt and jeans, comfy clothes she always brought with her after games. Thank god they weren’t doing press that night.

They sat like that for awhile, and Kristen allowed herself to close her eyes. His breathing was slow, calm, and it made her feel safe in a way she couldn’t describe. She was officially his, to everyone. No more sneaking around. Her mind wandered back to Sid and Geno, Mario’s reaction to her and Marc. Sid had lived with him for awhile, the odds of him not knowing were slim. Mario was a fair man. It was sad that Sid and Geno couldn’t come out to the public, but at least their places on the team would never be in jeopardy.

Kristen didn’t remember falling asleep, but Marc shaking her shoulder softly made her jump.

“It’s time to go, _mon chéri.”_ He smiled gently. “Press gave up.”

“Are you staying with me tonight?” Her voice cracked, not fully awake. He helped her get up, nodding.

“I will. We have to get there first.”

The hallways were surprisingly empty. It was calm. Nothing like the urgent feeling she had had after the game. The team were waiting patiently on the bus, none of which looked up as they made their way to their seats. Sid had decided to sit beside Geno, and they were whispering frantically. Marc motioned for Kristen to take the window seat.

The ride back to the hotel went by quickly, Marc’s hand on her leg the entire time, and the team split up silently as they made their way to their rooms.

Marc didn’t bother grabbing his things from Max’s room, opting to sleep with nothing on instead. Kristen didn’t mind. He immediately turned the TV to the news, avoiding the sports shows, and laid the remote beside him.

Kristen undressed as he watched the weather.

“You look beautiful.” There was a playful grin on his face.

“You look handsome.” She looked up and down his body, taking in the man that was officially hers. He was so perfect. “I missed you last night. I know, it’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid. I missed you, too.” Marc raised his hand, motioning for her to join him on the bed.

“I haven’t slept alone in so long.” She laid down on her side, facing him. He did the same. “It was so weird. Waking up to Max in my face didn’t make it any less weird.”

“He did the same thing to me.” Marc laughed. “He brought breakfast?”

“Of course, he did.”

_“Bâtard fou.”_

Kristen giggled, kissing his nose. “He’s a good friend.”

“You’re a good friend.” Marc kissed her back, rolling onto her. “The best.”

Kristen kissed him, slow and sweet, and it wasn’t long before they were rolling around on the bed together, probably making their neighbours uncomfortable.

0—0—0

“Here is what you’ll need to say. Obviously, feel free to change anything that’s inaccurate.”

Kristen looked over the piece of paper. An admittance of keeping a secret from the league, from the team, from the fans. It felt more like an apology than an announcement. She glanced at Marc, who looked like he felt the same.

“This is local press only, nice guys only. Anyone that does anything close to a gossip article will not be getting through the doors.” The PR rep looked at the couple softly. “I’m sorry you have to do this, guys. It’s just… you know.”

“Oh, there will be gossip. You might as well let them all in.” Kristen leaned back in her chair, covering her face with her hands. “Fuck. Cigarette. I need one.”

The woman, Jen, nodded. “Go for it. Around back. Marc, if you want to join her—”

“Actually, I think I need some time alone.” Kristen looked to Marc. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. Go. I’ll be here.” He squeezed her hand as she stood up and left the room.

The cigarette was in her mouth before she got outside, and she lit it as soon as the door opened. She had never been more grateful for a stick that gave people cancer.

She wasn’t nervous to tell people. She was ready, as her kiss in New York told everyone. The fact was, she felt strangely alone. The team was there for them, at least some of the team, but her mind kept going back to her family. They had all but disowned her after the Vancouver scandal. She wanted to prove to them that she was capable of a healthy relationship and a good career.

The fact that they needed to hold a press release felt over the top, and she was sure she would fuck it up to some extent. She had never been good at public speaking, even if she was just reading a piece of paper.

Kristen took a long drag of her smoke, trying her best to focus on the things around her. There was security lingering around her, cars driving by. Her hand automatically reached for her phone, pressing the home button, before she realized she had turned it off. A smart move, according to everyone. She was curious what people were saying, but knew it would just make her more nervous for what was about to happen.

Her relationship with the press was very love-hate. They enjoyed the fact she had fucked up so much, it gave them something to write about. But she was also the wonder kid. The miracle from a city in Canada that had defied all the rules of the game. It was exhausting, the push and pull. She was hoping that the press conference would make up everyone’s minds.

Jen poked her head out of the door. “Hey, we have five minutes.”

“Okay. Thanks.” Kristen took a last drag of her cigarette, stomping it out beside her. This was a bigger challenge than her first NHL game.

0—0—0

Marc toyed with the collar of his shirt. He glanced at Kristen, then Jen. They both looked serious, too serious, and he quickly wiped his face clean of its slight smile. He had pictured this conference before, and it had felt a lot more fun in his imagination.

“Holy shit.” Kristen sighed, jumping in place. Her skirt bounced with her.

“It will be okay. Quick, easy. Just say what you need to say and get out.” Jen forced a smile. With that, she slowly opened the door and led them inside.

Marc immediately spotted Max standing at the side of the room, flanked by Sid, Geno, Justin, Tanger… Most of the team, actually. He took a deep breath and smiled at them. He knew they were there by choice, and it sent a good message to the press. They had support in this.

“Do great, _младшая сестра. мы любим тебя.”_ Geno whispered as Kristen walked by, and she grabbed his hand quickly. Marc was happy she had him.

“Good luck, Flower.” Max nodded in affirmation.

The rest of the guys had their own ways of comforting the couple, through handshakes and kind words. By the time they made it up to the stand, Marc could tell both of them were feeling more comfortable.

“Okay, we have some statements from the players and time for a couple of questions.” Jen cleared her throat. The room was dead silent, for the first time in history. “Okay, go ahead.” She motioned to Kristen.

Kristen cracked her knuckles under the table, then caught herself, placing her hands beside the piece of paper in front of her.

“Playing in Pittsburgh has been one of the greatest gifts I could ever receive. The shot at a second chance was not and is not something that I will take for granted. I have made amazing friends, a second family, and… And I feel more than blessed to have found…”

Kristen raised her head, looking at her teammates. Jen was having a heart attack in the corner. She moved her hand to hold Marc’s.

“A romantic partner.” Her voice was monotone as she read the words, rolling her eyes as she looked at the press. “God, that’s bland.”

The people surrounding them laughed, and Marc found himself relaxing, letting out a snort.

“In all honesty, Marc has become my best friend, my boyfriend. We’ve made sure that this is something we both want, and the answer is—”

“Yes.” Marc spoke up, squeezing her hand.

Kristen smiled. “This will not be a repeat of my past. This is just a part of who I am now. And who I am now is a hockey player, who happens to have found the love of their life.”

Max yelled something from the back of the room in support. Jen was practically on the ground at that point, and Marc looked down at his paper, which suddenly felt too impersonal for what Kristen had just said.

“I feel the same.” He said simply, and the room burst into questions.

0—0—0

Xavier ashed his joint, frowning at his phone. The Penguins had a live video of the dreaded press release.

He knew he shouldn’t watch it. That kiss had been enough. But, fuck, he was trying to be supportive. Letang had talked his ear off the night before, telling him to not do anything stupid, don’t fuck this up for them, blah blah blah. No one seemed to understand that it was possible for him to do nice things.

He looked out his window. The snow was intense. Kristen was always surprised at the lack of snow Vancouver had versus her city. It was like nature was rubbing it in his face, the fact he didn’t have her anymore.

The joint started burning his fingers, and he jumped as the heat hit him. He threw it in his ashtray in frustration.

“Fucking stupid piece of…” He muttered, leaning back on the couch. He grabbed his phone again, finger hovering over the link.

Xavier’s reflection showed in the screen, making him pause. “You stupid asshole.”

His thumb tapped the link, just in time to hear Kristen’s speech.

He felt himself clench his fists.

0—0—0

Sid spooned a large helping of spaghetti onto his plate, keeping all his attention on the way the pasta fell. He knew Geno was watching him from his kitchen island.

He had been quiet for most of practice, energy going into the drills rather than joking around with his teammates. Geno was the complete opposite, which, for some reason, had irritated Sidney to no end.

Well, he knew why he was irritated. Seeing Kristen and Flower announce their love to an overly accepting group of press had made him both proud and upset. Proud, for obvious reasons. They deserved happiness, to be seen as human beings. But the negative thoughts were taking over. He wanted that acceptance for Geno more than anything in the world. He wanted to hold his boyfriend’s hand in front of a group of people and not have to worry about how it would affect their game. Or Geno’s chances of going home.

“You okay?”

Sid looked up from his plate to Geno’s concerned face. “Yes.”

“No.” Geno tilted his head, frowning. “You not.”

“It’s fine, G.” Sid filled his mouth with pasta to avoid a longer conversation.

Geno, obviously not believing him, ate his own dinner in silence, turning his attention to his phone. Sid gave in a little at the sight of his goofy smile and reached his hand out. Geno grabbed it absentmindedly, still laughing at whatever video he was watching.

“Do you think we’ll ever tell people?”

Geno looked up quickly, almost slamming his phone onto the marble countertop. “We what?” His frown was back.

“Tell people? About us?” Sidney regretted his decision to speak up, deciding to look down once again at his food. “One day?”

“One day. I’m tell you this. Not ready yet. This is what bugging you?” Geno reached across the island to lift Sid’s chin up with his finger.

“I wouldn’t say it’s bugging me… Just, you know, seeing Kristen and Flower…”

“Stew worried about this. We being jealous.” He nodded slowly. “I want things to be… different. But I’m promise Mom I come back.”

“I’m not jealous.” Sid was definitely jealous. “I just want to be able to kiss you when you win the Cup for us.” He knocked on the wood counters along the bottom of the island, subconscious superstition.

“Can always kiss me.” Geno stood up, grabbing their plates and putting them into the sink. “Always kiss me anyway.” He leaned down from where he was towering over Sid to kiss his forehead. “Now, watch game with me, _глупый мальчик.”_

0—0—0

Max sat in his driveway, a Fleetwood Mac song blasting through the speakers in order to distract him from the text he’d just received.

He used to have good luck with romance. Girls would pine over him constantly, and when he was younger he felt like he the pick of the litter. Not that he was a star player or anything, but some girls were into the guys that were kind of ugly. But now he was sitting there, trying his best not to reread what a girl had told him.

He had planned a semi-extravagant date for them, an early showing of some romantic comedy and an expensive dinner, followed by a quick walk in the Pittsburgh snow and heading back to his place for some dessert and, hopefully, a sleepover. It wasn’t much, but he was hoping his humour could win her over.

Sighing, he slowly lifted his phone from his lap, opening their conversation.

**Hey, Max. I heard about your friends. It’s really great for them. Anyway, I’ve been having some second thoughts about tonight. I do really like you, but I don’t know if I’m ready to be with someone who’s gone as much as you are. It’s nothing personal, really. Sorry again. You really are awesome.**

She hadn’t said he was ugly. Or not good enough for her. It was the kindness of the message that got to him most. This was his worst fear, his job interfering with any possibility of a personal life he could have.

Max’s phone vibrated as he got out of his car, again when he opened his front door. He contemplated throwing it at the wall. Marc’s ringtone started playing, which only slightly made him change his mind.

_“Yes.”_

_“Have you watched TV since we got back? Wait, no, you have a date tonight. Shit. I don’t want to interrupt—”_

Max cringed at the word ‘date’. _“Actually, that’s been called off.”_ He kicked his shoes off aggressively. _“Should I be watching TV?”_

He could hear Kristen laugh on the other end of the phone, and Marc snorted before continuing. _“Um, maybe? They’re talking about the press release, and I guess Laflamme went on this huge bender right after and someone’s already made a remix of it—wait, it’s called off?”_

_“I don’t want to talk about it.”_

_“Do you want to talk to Kristen?”_ She spoke up from the background when she heard her name. Max wanted to shoot himself.

_“No. Just… have a good night, okay, Flower? I’ll see you in the morning.”_

He didn’t wait for Marc to answer, finally able to throw his phone in the corner of his living room and throw himself face down on the couch.

Out of all the people to be jealous of, his two best friends were not the people he would’ve chosen.


	14. Bonfire

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Xavier raised his sunglasses slowly, squinting up at Ryan.

_“What are you talking about?”_ He paused, realizing he had spoken in French, and tried again. The light was blinding.

“Yesterday? It’s fucking everywhere.” Ryan sat in his place beside the other man. “Just gets out of rehab, goes on a fucking bender. Smart move.”

Xavier shrugged, cringing at the way his shoulder pulled. He’d have to see the trainer. Lord knows what he had done to his body the night before.

“I’m just saying, if you want to play…”

“I’ll have to smarten up, _Jesus Christ.”_

Ryan stared at him for a moment, shook his head, and began to take off his shoes. “You’re insane, Laflamme.”

_“Tell me about it.”_

Xavier didn’t remember anything that had happened that day. He had gotten up off his couch and headed downtown, and that was it. The videos of him fighting with waiters, yelling down the sidewalk with a bottle in hand, grabbing the ass of some female on a street corner that was more than happy to spend the night with him, all things he would never remember and would be better off not seeing. Even though he knew everyone in the league had probably seen them. Scratch that, everyone in the world.

The rest of the team slowly trickled in, all avoiding eye contact. Xavier slid his sunglasses down as soon as he’d finished dressing, hoping it would hide how anxious he was really feeling.

Alain walked in then, and Xavier closed his eyes.

“Xavier. Hallway.”

He swore he could hear Ryan chuckle as he left the locker room.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Hearing the question a second time made his eye twitch. No one understood that not even Xavier knew what the fuck he was doing. “Fucking up, apparently.”

“I don’t appreciate your sarcasm right now.”

“It’s the truth.” He shrugged. “It was a one-time thing.”

Alain stared at him for awhile, his frown turning into a look of acceptance. Henrik walked by, eyeing them curiously, but chose to head quickly into the locker room as their coach noticed him.

“Look,” Alain continued, “this is turning into a repeat of Halifax. And I can’t have that. We all can’t have that. So, you either smarten the fuck up, or we send you back down. There’s no Doug here to save you this time.”

Xavier cringed at the mention of his friend’s name, remembering their last goodbye at the train station. Everyone had known Doug deserved to be in his place, but Doug was the only person that didn’t believe them. Xavier longed for his friend’s quirky yet strangely helpful advice. They hadn’t talked in months.

Xavier could only nod before Alain headed into the room for his usual lecture/pep-talk. He needed someone who would understand. Someone who didn’t want to talk to him.

He pulled out his phone and texted her.

0—0—0

“We talk to Mario.”

Kristen jumped at the voice from above her. Geno dodged out of the way before their heads collided.

She had spent the night at Sid’s (and Geno’s) after a late dinner. The couple still didn’t know that she knew, but a couple of hints had slipped after Sid had one too many glasses of wine.

“G, it’s six in the morning.”

“We leave early. I’m start the car. Flower come, too.” Geno grabbed her hand, pulling her out of the bed. Her sports bra and underwear didn’t phase him as he dragged her to the guest bathroom, and Kristen smiled as she thought about what they looked like. Oh, the rumours that would start. “Optional skate not optional for you.”

She looked at him through the mirror, her smile still there. Even though it would embarrass him, she wanted to tell him she knew about his relationship. Their friendship had grown stronger and stronger over the months, and Kristen wanted him to trust her more than anything. He looked back at her, smirking.

“Is no time for checking me out.” He joked, pushing her shoulder gently.

“No, no. I just… You’re my best friend, G. I hope you know that.”

Geno looked at her for a moment, a thoughtful gaze that was rare on the joker’s face. Kristen looked down, pulling on the shirt she’d left on the counter. Her Penguins sweatpants were on the floor, which she also put on. The amount of skin showing felt too vulnerable while he watched her.

“Stew.” He hesitated, making sure she was fully dressed before he put his arms around her.

Kristen hugged him back, the taller man enveloping her giving her a sense of comfort after the thought of her serious discussion later in the day. She could see why Sid loved him, in the most platonic way possible.

“You know what I call you?” Geno’s voice was muffled in her hair.

“Something I don’t understand?” Kristen pulled away, looking up at him.

He laughed. “Little sister. _младшая сестра._ You family to me.” He leaned down, kissing her forehead softly.

She felt herself tearing up. The honesty in his voice was rare.

“Now, get ready.” Geno ruffled her hair, turned around and practically skipped out of the room.

People like him were the reason Kristen had started playing hockey. She had always envied the brotherhood that the players seemed to have, especially being an only child. She hadn’t experienced it for most of her playing career. But now, in a city far from home, she had gained more brothers than she could ever imagine.

The car ride to the rink would’ve been silent, if not for Sid’s consistent flirting and Geno making jokes in Russian. Kristen sat in the backseat and looked out the window for the whole ride, unable to formulate sentences at the thought of what she would have to say to Mario.

She knew it was time. She had been putting it off for months. For basically no reason, too. Well, there was one reason.

A meeting, a discussion, would mean closure. It would be officially over, he would be gone for her life forever. And yes, she did want that more than anything in the world. He had almost ruined her life. But God, it had been such a run. Like a movie. It was the closest thing to a wild and crazy romance that she would ever have, and it was terrible to think it had all gone to waste.

Kristen stopped herself before she kept thinking about him. It wasn’t safe territory. Instead, she started thinking about Marc, how much she had missed him during her night at the Crosby’s. It distracted her until they got to the arena.

“I’ll park the car, you guys head in.” Sid looked at her through the mirror. “Don’t worry about this. I’ve told Mario a lot of things, he always gets stuff done in a… quiet manner.”

It didn’t take much detective work to tell that the look Geno gave him was full of love, and a hint of sadness. Kristen looked away from the intimate moment, eyes on her feet. “Thanks for the ride, guys. And the great dinner, I had a lot of fun.”

“Anytime.” Sid touched her hand quickly, a motion of support, before ushering the two out of his car. He would be late for being early for practice if they didn’t hurry up.

The walk into the arena was silent, as was the slow tour to the office. It was a part of the building Kristen had never been in, an area that felt off limits and too professional for someone like her. Geno walked through with no worries, though, towering over the few office workers that walked by. They looked up at him in awe, and his simple nods of acknowledgment obviously made their day. Kristen received fewer looks, more confusion at who the girl with messy hair wearing Pens merch was.

“Is here.” Geno stopped suddenly, forcing Kristen to crash into his back.

“Jesus, G.” After shooting him a fake-angry glare, she turned to look at the doors. It truly was nothing fancy, quite similar to all of the other doors in the building, except Mario’s name was on it and she could see a figure at a desk through the frosted glass. “We just go in?”

“Sid talk to him. Make appointment.” Geno’s hand was on her shoulder, slowly pushing her towards the door. “No knock, just go in.”

Kristen stared at the door handle for a long moment (so long that Geno probably thought she was having a stroke) before slowly reaching her hand out and opening it. There sat Mario, puttering away on some important paperwork. He looked up quickly, as if he didn’t want to be seen doing anything other than hockey.

“Kristen! Wonderful of you to join us.”

She looked around the room to find Justin and Marc in seats along one of the walls. The men both had the same smirk on their face, and she looked away. A hard conversation made harder, surrounded by the three most positive players on the team.

“Sorry about being late, we were just—”

“Oh no, it’s no trouble. Now, make yourself at home. Evgeni, morning.” He nodded at Geno as he walked into the room, closing the door behind him and making everything suddenly more real.

“So, I’ve heard the basics of what’s going on. I know who this guy is, I understand what he’s doing, and I know that you want to put a stop to it for not only your sake but the team. Correct?” Mario slid her a glass of water.

“Um, yeah. Correct.”

“So, what do you think is the best way to handle this?”

Kristen looked at Marc, who nodded at her. “I… well, I don’t really know, exactly. I was hoping if someone higher up told him to stop, he would.” She shrugged. “I just can’t deal with it anymore. It’s effecting my game, my relationships.”

“Good. Okay.” Mario turned to his computer. Marc stood up, standing behind her with his hands on her shoulders. She hadn’t noticed she was crying until Geno handed her a tissue. “I’ll talk to Alain, see how he feels about the situation, and we’ll go from there. In terms of what you can do,” he turned away from his computer and gave her a friendly smile, “just keep playing the way you are. Keep your mind off of this, and I promise we’ll only discuss this when we truly have to. I’ll handle as much as I can.”

Marc squeezed her shoulders. “Thank you.” He spoke for her, recognizing how much even the quick sentences she’d said had drained her.

“And remember, we’re a team. We’re all here for you. You’re not a burden on anyone. The fact these guys are here now should remind you of that.” Mario stood up, prompting the others to get out of their chairs as well, and held his hand out towards Kristen. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. All of you.”

With quick goodbyes, the group was out of the office, looking like schoolkids who’d gotten busted fighting. Kristen followed behind them slowly. It had been mostly painless.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she stopped. The men paused ahead of her.

“It’s fine guys, I’ll catch up.” She gave them a small smile before checking her phone.

**I need to talk to you. No more bullshit, this is serious.**

Her breathing became ragged, the anxiety of the morning catching up to her. For some reason, she had ended up on the ground, holding her phone out to anyone willing to take it. The familiar signs of an anxiety attack became front and center; her hands were clenched, nails digging into her palms, the feeling that someone was sitting on her chest keeping her locked to the floor. She was vaguely aware of workers surrounding her, her teammates on the floor around her. Geno had grabbed her phone, Marc had his arm around her with one hand trying to massage her hands open, and Justin was blocking the view of her face from the crowd that had formed.

She looked up to see Geno reading Xavier’s messages, dating back to his first interaction with her. His eyes remained on the phone as he spoke.

“I kill him.”

0—0—0

“We’re playing against them in a week. I don’t see how any of this will end well.”

“It won’t. It’s gonna happen anyway, though.”

“He’s going to destroy her. Or try to.”

“Shut up.”

_“You’re like a bunch of schoolgirls.”_

“Okay, can we focus on the drill, please?”

Sid’s voice stopped the gossiping at the bench, and the men dispersed into their groups. Marc rarely felt thankful for Sid’s bossy voice, but it was just one of those days.

“How do they know?”

Marc glanced at Tanger, who was busy doing a drill with Kristen. “Someone said something, and it wasn’t the people in that office.”

Sid followed his gaze. “He’s been fine lately. I doubt it has anything to do with him.”

“I love the guy as much as you do. But... You can’t defend him forever.”

“And I haven’t been!” Sid knocked his stick against Marc’s pads. “You get a bunch of guys together who live and breathe hockey, they’re going to need something else to talk about. Information travels fast. Especially juicy information.”

Marc rolled his eyes. “You seem chipper this morning.”

“Just making up for the storm cloud that is Marc-Andre Fleury today.”

“Did dinner go well?” Marc hadn’t had a chance to ask Kristen, too preoccupied with the Mario meeting.

“From what I recall. Probably better to ask Geno, I got a little tipsy.” Sid laughed. “I’m happy they’re so close. I don’t think he’s ever had a chick-friend before.”

Marc almost made a joke about his previous girlfriend, Anna, but stopped himself when he saw Sid’s goofy grin. Nothing like an ex-girlfriend joke to ruin the fun. Instead, he nodded in agreement.

Kristen scored, and a fake celebration started at center ice. Marc watched on, mirroring the look on Sid’s face. He loved her, he truly did. There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her, and it made him happy to know that the other guys felt the same way, even if it was just a fraction of what he felt.

“Flower, in net!” Dan called, and Kristen skated over to the bench.

“See that goal?” She took off her helmet, spraying water onto her face and shaking her hair. He felt his heart skip a beat. Lifting her finger, she pointed to Murray. “That’s gonna be you in like three seconds.” With a quick butt-tap that made him blush, she was back out for the drill.

_“Hide the boner, Flower. Time to go.”_ Max’s smirk had somehow become more annoying. Marc hit him with his glove. _“So, I’m right!”_

_“I’d rather not hear the answer to that.”_ Tanger skated by, grinning.

Sid frowned at them but decided not to ask. Probably better for him not to know, anyway.

The rest of practice went by quickly, and Kristen’s mood seemed to have lifted significantly after that morning. Marc took his time getting dressed, hoping they would end up being the only two in the locker room.

“Dallas tonight, buddy.” Max tightened his tie as he walked over.

“I am, surprisingly enough, aware of our schedule.”

Max rolled his eyes and nodded towards Geno. “Do you not remember?”

“Just tell me.” Marc’s gaze was still on Kristen, who had been done changing before anyone else but was having too much fun telling Cookie and Schultzy a story to leave or care. He wanted her so badly, and here was his best friend telling him riddles.

_“A certain player with the number ninety-one? No, not our pride and joy over there. The one that’s currently in Dallas that used to be in Boston that our friend over there,”_ Max nodded at Geno again, _“had a little fun with during a certain Stanley Cup run?”_

Marc raised his eyebrows. _“That’s a lot of information.”_

“Were you not there?” Max switched back to English when he noticed Tanger was listening in.

“No, I was.” Tanger spoke up. “Wrong Frenchie.”

“Dude, I’m your best friend.” Marc faked shock and hurt, putting his hand up to his chest. Max hit him in the arm.

“It’ll be entertaining.” Tanger shrugged. “There’s more entertaining things, though.” He looked at Kristen, then to Marc. “There must be an anniversary coming up.”

Marc knew his motives were strange, but he couldn’t place why Kris Letang would care about any anniversary Marc would have ever. “I’m sure there is. I don’t think we’re doing that.”

Tanger frowned at him, and Max squinted at Tanger. “What’s the point, here?”

“This is between me and Flower.”

Max stuck his tongue out and strolled away, flipping his blazer over his shoulder. Marc shook his head. “I’ve never been more confused.”

_“Okay, look.”_ Tanger sat down in an empty stall, not bothering to look at the name. _“I need a favour from you guys.”_

Marc sat back down in his own stall, throwing the tie he would never figure out how to put on right around his neck. _“Yes…”_

_“I met this girl. I really like her, a lot. And I need somewhere to take her, something to do, but I can’t think of anything and you two are making things work surprisingly well so I thought maybe we could all go on a date somewhere? Something like that?”_

_“You’re gonna have to talk to her about all that.”_ Marc motioned to Kristen, who was somehow still dancing around.

_“So, you’re okay with it, then?”_

_“Yes, yes.”_ Marc patted his shoulder. _“Only if you fill me in on the Dallas incident.”_

Tanger held his hand out. “Deal.”

“For real though, ask her first.” Marc pointed at him.

Tanger smiled and stood up, flipping his blazer over his shoulder in parody of Max. Marc couldn’t help but laugh. Their friendship was rocky, but nothing could beat playing together for as long as they had. He’d seen it all.

“Hey, we napping before the game, or…” Kristen snuck up behind him, on her tiptoes so that she could rest her head on his shoulder. Her hands reached around his neck, effortlessly tying his tie.

“A room. Get one.” Justin said as he walked out of the room.

“He’s just jealous.” Marc turned around, pushing a rogue hair behind Kristen’s ear before pointing at the fabric around his neck. “Also, how did you—”

“I was sick of Max doing it. It’s my job.” She smiled up at him, and it was almost impossible to keep his hands off her. Nothing like a test of will power before a game. Sid would be proud. “I missed you last night. You should’ve been there.”

“Sounded like a hoot.” Marc grabbed her hand. “You want to dance more, or should we get going?”

“Definitely get going. I’m in the mood for a nap.”

0—0—0

The early winter sunset was illuminating the room, making it impossible for Kristen to sleep. It reflected off the mirror her and Marc had conveniently placed beside the bed, shining a spotlight directly into her face. Marc was in the bathroom, cleaning up after their pre-nap sex that had turned into something too intense for either of them to think about the actual napping, and she couldn’t keep her eyes off her phone. It sat precariously on the edge of her bedside table.

Practice had distracted her from Xavier’s text; hell, it had even put her in a good mood given the circumstances. He was nothing but a small man in a big city, miles away from her for most of the season. There was no reason why she would ever have to think about him again. Except here she was, post-lovemaking with someone who was actually good for her, and she couldn’t stop thinking about the annoying little prick.

Kristen sat up, pulling her hair into a bun. She pulled the covers under her armpits, and grabbed her phone, hoping there would be a different notification to distract her.

**Get lots of sleep amoureux ;))) see u tonight**

She rolled her eyes at Max’s text, sending him back an angry emoji and checking her emails. People from the press, interested in interviews with her and Marc, flooded her inbox, making her roll her eyes even more before chucking her phone at the end of the bed.

“What’s wrong?” Marc walked in, towel pulled around his waist. The look of concern made her remember what he’d seen earlier in the day.

“Oh, no. It’s not that. Just dumb people.” She held her arms out. “Come back to bed.”

He smiled at her, wrapping his arms around her torso and rolling over her. Kristen couldn’t help the giggles that escaped as he held her tight.

“Do I have to beat anyone up?” He spoke into her shoulder, managing to tickle her neck with his breath.

“Maybe.” Running her fingers through his hair happened automatically, something she had done for numerous nights at that point. It was getting longer, something Marc always complained about but would never change since she said he looked cute with long hair. Besides, it wasn’t long anyway.

“Hey.” He pulled back, kissing her softly before leaning up onto his elbow. “I was supposed to ask you something.”

“Oh, god.”

“Tanger wants a favour from us. Nothing crazy,” he lifted his hand as she started to protest, “just a double date. I figured he’d get too nervous to ask you himself.”

“You know how Letang and nervous go hand in hand.” Kristen laughed, her mind going through every loud remark he made towards refs in the past month, let alone since the beginning of time.

“He really likes this girl. I think he sees us, and, I don’t know… wants what we have.” Marc was blushing.

“We are pretty great.”

_“C'est tout toi.”_

“Hey, no self-deprecating French.” Kristen covered his mouth. “Yes, of course we can go on a double date with them. We spend enough time with him, anyway.”

Marc kissed her in lieu of a thank you, which ended up turning into an hour-long affair, long enough that both Max and Sid texted them wondering when they were heading over.

“We should really get going.” Kristen sighed as she looked at the group chat. Tanger had sent a rather long message full of sexual emojis (including the grapefruit, which made Marc laugh for a solid ten minutes) after Max and Sid’s texts.

“Yeah, yeah.” Marc smiled at her. “Or we can just stay here forever…”

Kristen got up, not bothering to cover herself. She could feel Marc’s eyes on her as she wandered over to the closet. “I’d rather not pay the however-many dollars just to have more sex. Not that it wouldn’t be worth it.” She pulled out a white jumpsuit, holding it up against her body.

“Wear that.” Marc walked over to her, wrapping his arms around her hips. _“Tu es si sexy dans ça.”_ His breath tickled her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine.

“This is gonna be a long game.”

_“Oui.”_ His smirk was straight out of the Max Talbot handbook, and Kristen turned around, kissing him quickly and running to the bathroom before he could try to seduce her anymore.

“You’re like a twelve-year-old boy. _Très_ horny.” Kristen giggled. She pulled on the jumpsuit, starting on her makeup. Nothing crazy, just enough to make it look like she hadn’t spent most of the day doing the opposite of napping.

Marc strolled in a little while after her, his suit on and hair already slicked back. She envied him while she struggled to get her hair in an okay state.

“Hey, what were those texts about? Earlier?” Marc sat on the edge of the bathtub, looking at her through the mirror.

“Oh, nothing.” Kristen put her curling iron down, keeping her eyes away from his as she ran her fingers through her hair. “It was some reporters. I guess people want to interview us.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I am!” She finally looked at him. “I assumed people would be burning us at the stake. I guess all those emails went to my spam folder.”

“Maybe people are just very supportive.” His smile was back.

“I don’t know. Anyway, yeah. That’s all it was.”

“Should we do it?”

Kristen thought for a moment. It didn’t seem as scary when Marc was on board. She wouldn’t be alone, and if people tried to get smart with them they could just leave. “I didn’t really think about it. It couldn’t hurt.”

Marc nodded slowly, standing up and bringing her hands away from her hair. “You look perfect. _Allons-y.”_

“So, you want to?” Kristen couldn’t help asking as they made their way down the hall. Marc simply shrugged in response, but his smile said otherwise. He was loving the fact that they were becoming, as he’d worded it before, a power couple. Kristen was starting to love it, too.

0—0—0

Geno was tense throughout warmups, leaving Marc to believe that what Max had said was true. Not that he didn’t usually believe him, but the boy loved gossip.

He noticed Sid was also not his usual self, which furthered the theory. Marc would be watching them for most of the night.

The first period was mostly eventful due to Kristen’s breakaway goal, followed by a chirping-match between Geno and Benn that was surprisingly emotional. Kristen had gotten in between them, which only egged Benn on more, causing him to crosscheck her. In his defense, if they had been the same height it would’ve been fine. However, the crosscheck went almost directly into Kristen’s face, causing a nosebleed and Geno going beast mode.

No fights broke out, as if the teams had decided it was best to wait. There were a lot of close calls, but nothing came of them, which made Marc start to feel tense. The complicated emotions were a lot to handle, especially from his front-row seat.

“Fuck, dude. That fucking hurt.”

Kristen walked into the locker room, tenderly poking around the stitches on her nose she'd gotten from a nasty hit. Marc grabbed her hand as she walked by, squeezing it. She smiled down at him before continuing to her locker.

“That was fucking dirty.” Max shook his head. “Should’ve gotten more than five minutes."

“We start on the PP. That’s what matters.” Sid was looking at the ground, and for the first time Geno didn’t look over at him. Marc hummed in agreement, if only to make their captain feel better.

Cooke muttered something about Benn getting what he deserved, and Kristen hid her smile with her glove.

The second period began with a goal from Sid, the energy in the arena lifting significantly. Marc was on fire, as if he could predict every shot that was flying towards him. Maybe he could.

The game was already physical, Geno and Cooke partnering up to apparently murder everyone on site, but Benn’s crosscheck had made things worse. Marc remembered they were teammates back in Kelowna, which added fuel to the fire. Kristen was obviously waiting for the right moment to retaliate.

Sometimes he felt like an announcer on some hockey radio show, especially during slow defensive games like the one that night. There was nothing better to do than narrate the game and try to keep himself warm.

The score stayed 2-0 going into intermission. Despite how good they were playing, the locker room remained tense. Tanger wiggled his eyebrows whenever Geno and Sid did anything strange, enjoying being right. Max joined in just because he knew it would make Marc laugh.

Dallas was able to score ten minutes into the third period, but Schultzy gave them the two-goal lead after a penalty shot. The Stars were getting frustrated, and it was affecting their game. It seemed their only goal was to put Crosby into a coma.

After a particularly brutal hit, Geno had had enough. He stormed over to where Sid was on the ice, clutching his shoulder, and pushed the Stars player against the boards. The ref blew the whistle, and Marc allowed himself to skate away from the net to get a better look.

He was speaking frantic Russian, making the other player laugh. Sid got up, trying to get in between them.

“I busy.” Geno spoke harshly to Sid, making him back away. The ref attempted to get in between them, but Geno brushed him off.

Kristen came over, eyeing Benn and Seguin. Benn glared back.

“That was a fucking cheap shot, Jamie.” She moved closer to him.

He chose to ignore her, saying something to Tyler. Marc wasn’t sure who he should be watching.

“Why don’t you get your boyfriend to fight your battles?” Jamie said to her, even though his back was still slightly turned. It was an invitation to even the score, for her to crosscheck his back and send him flying into Tyler (who was watching Geno with a scared look on his face).

She didn’t take the bait, however, opting to skate around him so they were face to face. “What did you say?”

Jamie shrugged.

She whispered something to him, her lips almost touching his ear. Marc felt his jaw clench. None of this would be ending well. Sid was still helplessly watching Geno, who was almost pummeling the other player into the ice. Cooke had also joined in, although Marc didn’t have to look long to see who was winning.

Jamie pushed her back, against Tyler’s warnings, forcing her off balance. She fell against the boards, mirroring Sid’s earlier pose. It didn’t take her long to pop back up, her gloves off and her hand on Jamie’s collar.

“Dude, leave it alone.” Tyler glanced at Marc, who had moved closer in spite of the fact he would have no idea how to begin this fight. There were no emotions behind it for him, but he assumed it would be rude of him not to defend his now-public girlfriend. 

Jamie watched her for a moment. Marc felt like he was going to have a heart attack. Tyler looked like he was going to be sick to his stomach. Kristen was still holding onto his jersey.

With another shrug, he shook his gloves off.

0—0—0

Kristen opened her eyes to pure white. She panicked for a moment, thinking she’d gone blind, before realizing it was the ice. She was facedown on the ice in front of thousands of people. It was almost worse than when she’d kissed Marc.

She lifted her head slowly, blood immediately falling down her face in a troubling amount. The Pens’ trainer was sitting beside her.

“I don’t know why she tried. She’s gotta stop thinking she can beat a man at a man’s game.”

Jamie’s voice came from above her, followed by Marc’s furious French and a ref discussing something with Sid.

“Oh, god.” She wiggled a loose tooth with her tongue. The trainer offered her a hand, but she shook her head.

She knew that she was going to lose the fight as soon as she’d put her hands on him. It wasn’t like she had an edge on him in any category; she was shorter, weaker, and wasn’t as angry. Men would always have those over her, and Kristen had tried her best to accept that. But sometimes all your team needed was to know that you would fight for them, even if you’d lose.

Jamie was standing in front of her as she looked around, his cocky smirk like another punch to her face. Slowly, she raised her hand, as if reaching towards him, before turning it around and flipping him off, giving a cocky smile back.

It took every ounce of will power to push herself off the ice and onto her feet. She didn’t feel dizzy, which was great, but her mouth and nose were bleeding profusely. The stitches on the bridge of her nose had been pulled out.

The crowd cheered, mostly out of pity but Kristen pretended otherwise. Pittsburgh was up in score, and the penalties were even on both sides. Sid, Tanger, and Schultzy were still on the bench. She, Cookie, and Geno were in the locker room for the rest of the game. It could be worse.

“Again?” The doctor chuckled as she made her way into the room, clutching her nose. Her glove was still on, and the blood was all over her. She felt bad for Dana, who’d have to deal with all of it later.

Kristen shrugged as she sat down. “Shit happens, I guess.” Her voice was weird from pinching her nose. “No painkillers again, please. Just numb me.”

“She won’t be going back out. Take your time.” The trainer smiled at her.

Rolling her eyes, she laid down and let the doctor work his magic.

Geno popped in occasionally, just to look at her nose and cringe, then walk away laughing. Eventually, Cookie started to join him, and the medical room was soon full of parading hockey players congratulating her and staring at her injuries.

“That’s a good one.” Marc’s voice came from the doorway, and Kristen raised her hand towards him. This was more stitches than she thought was possible.

“Did I even get him?” She mumbled past the doctor’s hand.

“You gave him a good, uh, _crochet du droit.”_ Marc swung his fist slowly. “Made up for…” His fist turned into a pointer for all her injuries.

She jokingly glared at him as the doctor finished up. A bottle of T3s was handed to her (they could never accept that she didn’t want any) and Marc grabbed her arm, putting all the pressure off her bad knee and onto himself.

“You missed the lecture. _‘What are we, the Flyers?’”_ Marc mocked Dan’s voice. “He wants less fighting. Check the temper, _petit soleil.”_

“It helped us win. I was just vibing off Geno.” Kristen reached to put in the code for the locker room door, struggling as her right knuckles started pounding.

_“Ici,_ here.” Marc pushed her hand away, punching the code in quickly and almost dragging her into the room. It was empty, and Kristen sighed as he dropped her off at her locker.

“No fighting until Vancouver.” It wasn’t a question, and Marc didn’t answer. Whenever the Canucks came up, he became tense and short with everyone. With Xavier back on the team, everything felt harder. “I mean, no one has to. I just assume that he would assume that… well, you know.”

Marc kneeled down, undoing her skates as she pulled off her jersey. She laughed at the amount of bloodstains.

“I think I’ve gone through three of these since I started. Must be a record.”

“Cookie holds the record for that one.” Marc glanced up at her, his smile lighting up the room. Kristen leaned forward to kiss him.

“Teammate incoming.” Sid walked in, covering his eyes and forcing the couple apart. “Nice one out there, Stew.” He stopped for a moment, looking down at his yellow crocs. “I mean, I know you don’t like that name, I don’t know why—”

“It’s okay.” Kristen laughed. “Too much time with Geno.”

“Oh, um, yeah. I mean, a normal amount.”

Marc snorted as he pulled off her skates, setting them aside and starting on the tape around her socks. Sid chuckled uncomfortably.

“Are we still doing breakfast after practice?” Sid patted Marc’s shoulder.

“Oh, shit.” He looked towards Kristen again.

She pulled her hair into a loose ponytail. The ends were caked with blood. “Is this a ‘we’ that involves me?” Marc nodded slowly, making her laugh. “Yeah, yeah we’ll be there, Captain.”

“Communicate with your woman, Flower.” Sid chuckled, tapping both of their heads lightly. “See you guys tomorrow.”

0—0—0  
 **Can this wait until we play each other?**  
 **Can’t you just call me?**  
 **Xavier, I’m serious.**  
 **Yeah okay. I’ll see you soon.**


	15. It Ain't Me

The wait for the Canucks to invade his home went by too fast. Marc avoided the topic as much as he could at team gatherings, and Kristen played along for his benefit. Vancouver was quickly becoming one of their top rivals, challenging Philly and Washington for the coveted title of number one.

“She’s been acting really weird.”

Marc was at the bar with Max. Kristen had decided not to join the team, saying she was tired, but Marc couldn’t keep his thoughts away from the fact that Xavier was in town that night.

“Like, I know she’s always weird, but it’s getting a little—”

“Okay, Max. _My God.”_

“Sorry! I’m just trying to figure out why.”

Marc sighed, downing the remainder of his beer. The lack of a ginger ale can beside them made his stomach hurt. “Dan and Mario had a talk with her. _About the fighting. I think she’s worried they’re going to trade her or something because of it. But it makes sense because she just can’t keep doing that and expect things to turn out well.”_

Max frowned at him. “Why not? We all do it.” He gestured around at the team that was scattered around the bar. “We’re just a more physical team this year. And she’s always played like this.” Marc began to deny it, but Max silenced him. “Have you talked to her?”

“Not really. It’s mostly just been fucking and playing hockey.”

“Ah, the dream.” Justin walked up to the bar, raising a finger at the bartender.

Marc shook his head. He pushed the stool back, leaving a tip under his glass. “I’ll talk to her tonight. Night, Schultzy.”

_“Night, my Flower.”_ Max smirked at him.

The team echoed in choruses of goodbyes as Marc made his way out the door and into the cold. The snow had eased up slightly, and he contemplated walking home instead of taking a cab. It would give him more time to think about everything.

His mind wandered as much as he did, and it wasn’t long before he was walking down the street his apartment was on. It was mostly gameplays, things he needed to focus on for the upcoming game. Things he was grateful for so that his nerves didn’t get the best of him.

As he was reaching in his pocket for his keys, a voice from behind startled him.

“Marc-Andre?”

The accent sounded familiar, but he couldn’t place it. With a deep breath, he turned around, eyes still on the ground as he attempted to get the keys out of his jeans. “Yes?”

The other man cleared his throat uncomfortably, and Marc finally looked up. There, standing directly in front of him, a little too close for comfort, was Xavier Laflamme.

“Oh.” It was the only word he could manage. His keys finally came unstuck, and the awkward tugging motion he had been doing almost made him punch himself. He almost wished he had.

“Um, hey.” Xavier pushed his toque farther down his head. _“The odds of this.”_

Marc nodded slowly. He toyed with his keys, looking around to find the doorman. Had Kristen invited him over, or was this some good old-fashioned stalking?

_“I know this is weird.”_

“Uh, yeah. A bit.”

_“I swear I was just going for a stroll. Not following you.”_ Xavier looked around. _“It’s really nice here.”_

Marc could only nod, unsure of the protocol for a situation like this. He contemplated calling Kristen, even starting to reach for his phone, but quickly stopped himself. _“Yeah, no, it’s all good.”_

The men stood on the sidewalk for what felt like hours, the uncomfortable silence weighing on Marc more than he thought it would. Their last conversation had been full of yelling. Thoughts of Kristen kissing him, holding him, danced through his head, making him feel sick.

_“Listen, I should be heading home. Early morning.”_

_“Oh, yeah. Yeah, for sure.”_ Xavier took a deep breath, reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. _“I just… I have a lot I want to say.”_ He lit it, taking a drag. He smoked the same cigarettes as Kristen. _“I want to apologize… for, well, everything. I don’t hate you.”_

_“I didn’t think you did.”_ Marc looked around, afraid that Kristen might come outside and know they were talking about her.

_“Yeah. I guess. I’m, um, I am happy for you guys. I can tell she’s happier here.”_ He seemed honest in that moment, the cocky, arrogant vibes seeming to have disappeared. _“And you guys are great together.”_

_“Wow. Thank you.”_ Marc awkwardly looked up at his balcony, praying that she didn’t decide to come out for her before-bed smoke. The whole situation was too strange for him to comprehend. _“Well, I think I need to head in.”_

Xavier looked disappointed. He ashed his cigarette harshly, glancing up at where Marc had been looking. He said nothing, choosing to keep staring at the balcony. Marc thought back to when he’d called Kristen, the way her body had folded in on itself after his harsh words. He wondered if Xavier regretted it, or if this was all just a ploy to see her alone. Kristen had said never to trust addicts, which had seemed strange considering the fact she was also one.

_“We’re in town an extra day after the game. I’d love to have coffee with you guys.”_ Xavier finally spoke.

And there it was. Marc nodded, probably not convincingly, and reached out to shake his hand, desperate for the conversation to be over. Xavier accepted, although his grip was a little too tight.

_“You guys… you’re living together now?”_

Marc nodded again, slower. The other man still had a harsh grip on his hand.

_“Isn’t that a little soon?”_ Xavier took a drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke into Marc’s face. He felt protective, an animalistic need to be with Kristen overwhelming him.

“It just happened. Naturally.”

_“I never pegged her as the type to move in so quick.”_ Another drag, more smoke in his face. _“But what would I know? I only spent a year with her. I guess if someone’s desperate, hey?”_

It was on the elevator ride up to his room that Marc realized he had been holding his breath. There was something about that man, an energy that he put off from his core that felt unsafe, unreliable, unpredictable. Even he had been a little afraid of Xavier Laflamme.

0—0—0

“Hey, _mon cher.”_

Kristen woke up to Marc standing in the doorway of the bathroom. She frowned at him. She didn’t remember him coming home from the bar, or even getting out of bed in the morning. The sun was shining brightly, reflecting off the snow, and she didn’t want to know what time it was. This would be the hardest day of the month.

“Hey, baby.” She continued frowning at him before turning around and placing her head back on the pillow. She didn’t want to get up.

“We have practice this morning.” Marc reminded her. There was an edge to her voice that made her sit up in bed, her back to him and her gaze looking out over the snowy city.

“Yeah?” She reached into her bedside table, pulling out her smokes.

“So, we should be getting ready, yes?”

His voice made her cringe. She got up, pulling on a pair of sweat pants and refusing to look at him. It was too early on the wrong day for them to be starting an argument.

“I’m having a smoke. I’ll get ready in a second.” Kristen pulled on a random Penguins hoodie from the floor, making her way outside as quickly as she could.

The cigarette went by too quickly, and she dreaded going back inside. Marc, although fun-loving and a generally positive person, had a nasty intense edge in him when he was worried or scared. It was an edge she could see in herself, and the last thing she wanted was for them to explode at each other over a stupid game against a stupid team that she knew they would win anyway (she knocked on wood as she thought that, a true Sidney Crosby moment).

He was sitting in the kitchen, a plate of toast in front of him. He was picking at it, looking out of the window, and she felt a twitch in her stomach when she realized he hadn’t made her anything. Not that she couldn’t make toast, but he always made her breakfast on game days. She sighed, setting her things down on the table.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

Marc slowly turned to her, shrugging and pushing his plate away. “I just feel off, I guess. _Nerveux, je suppose.”_

Kristen shrugged. “Maybe.” She turned to leave the kitchen, pulling her hair back into a messy bun. If he wasn’t willing to talk, she wasn’t going to push him.

“Why did you move here?”

She turned around, the frown on her face feeling like a permanent expression for that morning. “What are you talking about?”

Marc got up from his seat, throwing the uneaten toast in the garbage. He almost threw the plate into the sink, making her jump. Another flashback of Xavier popped into her head and she backed away from him until the back of her legs hit the couch.

“Marc?” It took all her courage to speak up without her voice shaking. It was nothing, he wasn’t mad at her. He had no reason to be.

“I just…” He leaned against the counter. _“Dieu, je suis stupide._ It’s nothing.”

He continued to mutter until Kristen decided he had settled down and walked towards him. The space between them felt odd, foreign, as if they hadn’t been together for months and told each other everything. Like he was folding in on himself. Max had warned her about this. However, her confusion was making it hard to not feel hurt.

“Did I do something?” She touched his arm gently. “I… you can tell me.”

Marc shook his head and moved her hand down to his. He held it tightly, as if she was going to leave him alone in that kitchen for the rest of his life. “No, no. It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” With her available hand, she stroked his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. She couldn’t help but smile a little at that, his automatic reaction to her touch. Proof that he trusted her.

“I’m just nervous. I promise.” He continued before she could interject. “I just want to make you breakfast and go to practice and have a good time with you. Not talk.”

Kristen agreed, even though she didn’t fully believe him.

0—0—0

“What he do?”

Geno’s raised voice made Sid almost drop his mug of tea. He was on a group call with Kristen and Talbo and had ordered Sid to ‘make no noise’ until the call was over. As if it would be terrible for them to be spending time together. As if half of the call didn’t know they were together, anyway.

“No, it wasn’t technically anything he did, it was just the way he was saying things. Like, I know something was going on but he doesn’t want me to know. It’s been fucking me up all morning.”

“This is some girl-gossip shit that I can’t help with. Why did you call me?” Max sounded like he had food in his mouth.

“You’ve been his best friend for years!”

Sid sat down beside his boyfriend, trying his best to drown out the drama that was happening beside him. The worst thing he could do was distract his focus with something that was out of his control. He wanted to ask Geno to turn the call off speakerphone, but he was too busy attempting to play Mario Kart.

“You talk to him?”

“Oh yeah, because I didn’t think of that.” Kristen sighed (or exhaled, she really needed to quit smoking, but Sid would never tell her that). “God, boys are so much harder than girls.”

“In more ways than one.” Max snorted, making Geno laugh along with him.

“All of my friends are twelve, I swear.”

“Listen, I’m sure it’s fine. Just play the game, maybe talk afterward.”

“What he say.”

Sid wanted to interject, tell her that Flower would play better if they talked it out beforehand. He would be distracted the whole time if she didn’t, and, although it was cute, Sid was tired of watching him stare at her in deep thought while a puck was flying towards their net.

By the time Sid finished his tea the conversation was still going on. He didn’t want to change his routine, but the idea of a nap didn’t feel right.

Eventually, the trio said their goodbyes (they would be seeing each other in four hours, anyway). Geno leaned back on the couch, shaking his head.

“What?”

He glanced at Sid, a smile on his face. “I’m remember when we were like that. Don’t know the word.” He waved his hand, looking for Sid to fill in the blanks.

“I’m happy is not like that anymore.” Geno wrapped his arm around Sid’s back, pulling him closer. “You have nap?”

Sid shook his head. The warmth of Geno’s body made him feel sleepy, even with all the thoughts bouncing around in his brain. “I’m thinking too much.”

“About what?”

That was the question. Even he didn’t fully know. “You just made me think about how long we’ve been together.” It was partially true, but what Sid really wanted to ask about felt like an after-the-game conversation.

“Long, long time. We old men now.” Geno joked, poking a finger into Sid’s hip.

“You are, maybe.” Sid played along for Geno’s benefit.

There wasn’t much napping before the game, and Sid felt off as Geno pulled into the parking lot. His pre-game rituals felt off time and awkward. Getting dressed felt uncomfortable. He avoided talking to anyone, noticed that Kristen was doing the same, and tried his best to start conversations. It wasn’t like they were playing his rivals, he had nothing to be weird about.

Marc was also strangely quiet. He kept glancing at the locker room door, as if someone was going to bust in and kidnap him. Max and Geno talked to their usual people, ignoring the couple’s strange behaviour.

On ice wasn’t much different. The team felt off-kilter, and warm up was unusually quiet. The Canucks, on the other hand, were full of optimism and life, and it made Sid feel even worse about that evening.

Kristen came over to tap Sid’s head in her own ritual while he was standing on the bench. She smiled at him before tapping his helmet twice, her way of saying things would be okay. Three taps meant something was up, one meant they were going to win even if Sid didn’t want to admit it.

“You ready, Captain?”

Sid nodded and was about to respond when something caught his eye. There was number 70, standing at center ice, watching Kristen as she stretched by the bench. He looked up at Sid, a smirk on his face, chewing on his gold mouthguard. Sid nodded his head at him.

“As ready as I can be.” He tried his best to look at her while also peeking at Flower.

“I know. Just ignore him.” Kristen got up off the ice. “He just wants my attention.” She automatically passed a lone puck to Schultzy, who went off to shoot on Murray.

“Is he going to want your attention all night?”

She raised her eyebrows. Sid suddenly became aware of the edge in his voice and sighed.

“I mean… I don’t know, I’m sorry. I don’t know where my head’s at.”

Kristen looked over as Flower came over to them. “It’s okay, we can cover for you until you get your head back.” She elbowed Marc when he was beside her. “How’s _ma fleur?”_

Sid zoned out as the couple started talking. He waved at them before jumping onto the ice and taking a couple more shots. Hockey was therapy, and he needed it that night more than ever.

0—0—0

“I need to just get the fuck out there.”

Max glanced over at Kristen, who was bouncing her leg to the point where it looked like it was going to fall off. Geno placed his hand on her knee, pushing it down so that she would stop.

“Make Sid nervous.” He grinned at her. She didn’t smile back.

The game had just started, and everyone was on edge. Laflamme’s line hadn’t played yet, as if they were waiting for Kristen to step on the ice. Which, knowing what he did about Xavier, didn’t seem like a stretch.

Kristen let out a groan and he looked over again.

“Just get this shit over with.”

Max turned back to the ice as Marc made a save. The whistle was blown, and Max’s shoulder got the tap. “Patience, young one.” He gave her a wink before jumping on the ice.

If he could pretend everything was fine, then maybe it would be. At least for everyone else. Even though Sid would always be the glue that held them all together, Max felt he was responsible for making everyone laugh. And cry. And relax. And just generally feel emotion other than their typical hyper-masculine hockey player feelings. It came easy with some people, Marc was always down for dad jokes and Kristen just needed to be annoyed a little, but the challenge was people like Tanger or Sid. The guys that had devoted their lives to their sport.

And it wasn’t that Max wasn’t okay. He was always okay, always been an optimist in the face of adversity. He was fine with being single and living alone, he’d done it for most of his life. He had a bunch of brothers that he could turn to at any moment. But there was something about his last failed relationship (was it even a relationship?) that was eating at him slowly. Making him think that maybe he was meant to be alone for the rest of his life.

He leaned on his knees as the ref signalled for a faceoff. He glanced at Marc. There was no time to think, only to play some hockey.

0—0—0

“Shit.”

Kristen didn’t remember thinking the word or saying it out loud. She felt her blades slip out from under her as she jumped over the boards. The crowd laughed, or at least she thought they did, but she kept moving. Marc held the puck behind the net until Tanger swooped in and made his way up the ice.

Vancouver was changing their lines. They had the perfect opportunity.

Sid had the puck now, she didn’t have to look to know that. Geno called to him as they crossed the blue line. A jersey with the number 70 made his way towards them.

“Here, here!”

Her brain was moving a mile a minute, but was also completely clear. Her eyes were focused on Geno’s stick, awaiting the pass from her side of the ice.

“G!”

The puck was on her stick somehow, and she dodged a familiar face as he came speeding towards her. There was no time to look at numbers, try to recognize voices. They were all obstacles to her.

Luo was ready for her, and her only option was to trust that Tanger was behind her where he should be. She passed the puck through her legs, a move she’d been working on in practice, followed by the sound of a slapshot. She silently thanked her former rival for knowing exactly what she was thinking and avoiding another incident that would make her look stupid. The red light went on behind the goaltender, and the crowd cheered.

“Fucking rights.” Tanger pulled her in for a hug, which surprised her.

“Beautiful move.”

Sid and Geno stopped in front of them, tapping them both on the helmets and Geno pulling her in for a bear hug.

As they made their way back to the bench, Kristen was in the middle of thanking God or whoever was in charge for inventing short shifts so she could control her breathing, when she happened to glance over at the Vancouver bench.

Xavier leaned against the boards, chewing on that stupid fucking golden mouthguard with that stupid fucking smirk on his face.

_“‘Ey! En regardant bien là-bas, bébé!”_ He called to them.

Kristen’s linemates ignored him, but she found it impossible to look away. She hadn’t seen him in person in what felt like years. He looked different, not necessarily better or worse. He had the same look in his eyes, a hidden fire under layers of a damaged soul, that would make anyone want to join him in whatever devilish thing he was up to. She almost missed him for a moment.

“Stew. We get too many men.”

She snapped back to reality, realizing she had been staring at him for far too long. He was still smirking, but it was less cocky and more… sad. The fire was burnt out.

“Sorry, G. I’m coming.” Kristen nodded at her friend, finally looking away from Xavier. Dan was watching her carefully, and she smiled apologetically as she got to the bench. He said nothing.

After their goal, the period was unremarkable, mostly just filled with anxiety on Kristen’s side. She and Xavier didn’t share the ice for the rest of the sixty minutes, which was both better and worse in the fact that she didn’t have to worry about a fight but was also forced to watch him play. She’d forgotten how good he was when he put effort into things.

She walked into the locker room flanked by her line mates. It was mostly quiet, apart from a pump-up speech by Dan that she tried her best to listen to properly.

“I never got to tell you, that was a hell of a pass to Tanger.” Schultzy leaned towards her. “Let’s see them try to do that.”

“Oh, yeah. Thank you.” Kristen didn’t mention she’d learned that move in Vancouver with Bieksa, that she’d abandoned it until a couple of weeks before. She knew that ‘they’ could do that.

“And Flower’s save, eh?”

She also didn’t mention that she hadn’t been watching Marc for the majority of that period. Her eyes had been on someone that she didn’t want to admit. “Definitely.” She finally looked across the room to where he sat joking around with Murray. He seemed fine, the complete opposite of how their day had been. “He’s great.”

Justin looked back and forth between the two of them. “You guys didn’t…” he hesitated, waiting for Kristen to look at him to continue, “You didn’t talk much today.”

Kristen could only shrug, leaning down to tighten up her laces.

“Is there something going—”

“It’s fine, Schultzy. Really.”

He backed off, allowing her some breathing room. Some players were pulled out for intermission interviews and most of the guys joked around. Kristen remained in the same position the whole time, staring at the ground. Any energy she had would be going towards the game and that was it.

She lifted her eyes when the men started to stand. Her fingers had gone numb from her awkward position, and she wiggled them inside her gloves.

“We’ll be behind you. Every shift, we’ll be there.”

Kristen looked at Schultzy, who was now standing beside her with Tanger. She couldn’t help but smile at them.

“That’s very ominous of you.” She laughed. “But thank you, guys.”

Justin pulled her up out of her locker, pushing her towards the door. “Let’s go, child!”

“Who are you calling child, kiddo?”

0—0—0

Marc reached his arm up as high as he could manage, hoping that he would end up feeling the heavy weight in the back of his glove. He closed his eyes for a second, praying to whoever he could. He needed a shutout that night.

Max’s faint call of 'Fuck yeah, Flower!' made him open his eyes and pull his glove back down towards him. The ref blew the whistle, and Marc let himself smile. Someone was on his side. He glanced at the bench. Max and Cookie, most of the guys, actually, were smiling down at him. His smile faltered as he looked down the bench, though.

Kristen was staring at the Pens’ logo at center ice, her face blank. He knew they had had troubles that morning, but he’d figured a game could clear their heads. Let them have some space from each other so that they could enjoy the rest of their night.

People had warned him about this when they first became public. That you should never work with someone you were dating or spend all day every day with them. There had been many a discussion about if they were making the right decision and they’d both agreed it was the right call (as if they could make an excuse for their very public kiss). But he never thought that they would hit so many bumps early on. Not that they were big bumps, more like romantic potholes.

Marc shook his head. It was because of Xavier that they were having problems. The guy had a deviously talented way of getting in peoples’ heads.

Xavier consistently fooled around with Marc’s confidence, from French chirps across the ice to stopping as close as he could without knocking him over. It wasn’t terrible, he was used to that behaviour, but the cocky smirk plastered on the other player’s face made him tense. The rest of the Canucks seemed to back off, if only to bother Marc more. If they were all acting that way, it would be better than the obviously targeted mental attacks.

There were no goals or fights throughout the rest of the period, shocking given their turbulent game before. The game felt so easy it almost scared him.

It wasn’t long before Marc found himself back in his stall, silently trying to catch Kristen’s attention. She still had that vague look on her face, now staring at the middle of the room. It was as if the Penguins’ logo was haunting her.

_“Is it just me, or are they playing really… calm now? Kinda freaky?”_

Marc looked at Tanger. Duper and Max were nodding their heads in agreement. So, it wasn’t just him.

“I mean, I’m not complaining.” Max grinned. “Last game probably knocked some sense into them.”

“You mean Flower and Stew knock sense.” Geno walked by, returning from his intermission interview. “We just keep playing same way.”

Marc forced himself to smile, glancing over at Kristen. She had looked up at the mention of her name, and their eyes locked for a brief moment. It felt like back when they weren’t dating, the way they would catch each other’s gaze across the room. Except she kept looking, and so did he, and he risked a smile. His previous fears calmed down when she smiled back. It was hard on her to see Xavier after so long, that’s why she was acting the way she was.

“I’ll never forget the night Flower finally got some action.” Sid piped up, making the guys laugh.

“There were a couple of those.” Max muttered, making them laugh even more.

Kristen rolled her eyes, standing up to stretch her legs. “More than a couple, boys.”

Marc was sure the look on his face was what made the group laugh harder, causing Max to almost fall on the ground.

0—0—0

“Think they’re planning on clearing the bench with ten seconds left?”

Max looked over at the Vancouver bench, then back to her. “What do you mean?”

“It’s too calm.”

“Maybe they’re just tired. They’ve been on the road for awhile.”

Kristen shook her head and glanced up at the clock. There was ten minutes left in the last period, and they were up 1-0. It was a tedious lead, something she knew she shouldn’t cling to, but with the way things were going it was hard not to feel like they’d already won.

She was almost bored. Her nerves had disappeared after not sharing the ice with Xavier, paired with Marc’s loving smile during intermission, and now there was nothing left but hope that something else would happen. Like a bench clearing brawl.

“My God, could they be any slower?” Max leaned back so that Kristen couldn’t see his face, but she could envision the grin anyway.

“Don’t tempt them.” Sid rolled his shoulders back.

“We could have an empty net and they still wouldn’t get a _foutu_ goal.”

Kristen raised her finger at Max. “Fucking!” He laughed, nodding in approval at her growing French curse word arsenal.

Time went by so slow that the team seemed to decide that they were going to fool around as much as possible. Sid scored a goal with some variation of a lacrosse move, Cookie got a goal from almost center ice. The puck stayed in the Vancouver zone for the remainder of the period.

The team celebrated Marc’s shutout happily, and the locker room was anything but tense. It still felt strange, though, how anticlimactic the whole thing had turned out to be. It was overall a very boring game to not only play but to watch, and she almost felt bad for the people who were there for a fight. She had been there for a fight, too.

Jen walked into the room as the men were changing, shielding her eyes as she walked over to Kristen.

“Before you say anything, no.”

Jen chuckled. “They want you specifically.”

“Why? I wasn’t the star of the show or anything.”

The other woman shrugged, looking around the room before getting to Marc’s stall and raising her eyebrows. “What if he came with you?” Marc looked up from where he was taking off his pads and shook his head frantically, making Kristen laugh.

“No, no. I’ll go.”

The hallway was flooded with reporters, and it took her a minute to adjust to the bright lights. They asked the basic questions, how she felt about the game, how it was seeing her old team. It was going insanely well, she even smiled, until a voice piped up from behind the crowd.

“Excuse me?”

She frowned, knowing the voice sounded familiar but praying it wasn’t who she thought it was. “Um, sorry guys. Duty calls.” She tried her nicest smile on the group of reporters, who mainly shook their heads but happily moved on to the next Penguin that walked out the door.

Xavier was leaning against the wall, a jacket under his arm. He was completely changed, a pair of sunglasses on that were probably hiding the smug look that was on his face. Always the first one out of the locker room.

“Can we talk away from all…” he motioned at the Penguins logo, the black and yellow. “This? Something neutral, yeah?”

Kristen nodded, unable to say anything. She followed him to the visitor’s hallway, unsure how it was neutral ground but not willing to say anything.

“So, hi.” He sighed, looking down at his feet. “Good game.”

“Really?” Kristen shook her head. “You catcalled me and then your entire team gave up halfway through.”

Xavier shrugged, taking his sunglasses off. She looked away, his gaze too strong. “You only won by one. _C'était un bon jeu, non?”_

“Okay, make this quick.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, okay.” The jacket under his arm was brought up to Kristen’s face, forcing her to back away. “I brought you something. Cold in Pittsburgh.”

She batted his arm away, frowning. “You brought me a coat. And… that’s what you wanted to talk about? The fucking weather?”

“You don’t remember? Your birthday?”

He waved the jacket in front of her face again, and she snatched it away, holding it out to look at it. It was plaid, fluffy and warm. Of course, she remembered. Going to Walmart on a drunken whim, buying a kid’s cop costume with bedazzled handcuffs and a certain plaid jacket because she was cold. Spending the night at a gross motel instead of their five-star hotel, handcuffed to a bedframe while he made her think he appreciated her, snorting lines off her stomach at two in the morning. Of course, she remembered it.

“Wow. Um, thank you.” She threw the jacket on, if only to feel less vulnerable and small. Instead, it made Xavier give her that cocky grin.

“I knew you missed it.”

“It’s just a jacket, Xavier.”

“No, I meant…” He wiggled his finger in between them, still smiling. “I missed it, too. We had a lot of fun. You were my best friend.”

Kristen scoffed, looking up at the ceiling. She felt like she was going to cry. “Why are you such an asshole? Why do you bring up this shit now?”

“So, that means you don’t miss it? At all?”

“No. You know what, it actually works out great. I don’t have to deal with your bullshit, and you can finally go fuck yourself in peace.”

Xavier sighed, running his hands through his hair. “You’re not listening to me.”

“I offered to listen for a year. I gave you so many chances. I can’t listen anymore.”

The two looked at each other for a minute, taking in the differences that time could make. Xavier looked healthier, although more tired. His hair was longer, his muscles more pronounced. Kristen touched her hair self-consciously, too aware of how she looked.

_“Tabarnak,_ I just need to tell you I’m sorry. For all of it.”

“You single-handedly ruined what should have been the best season of my career. The time of my life. I…” She looked behind him at the Canucks logo taped to the wall. “I can’t give you any more of my time. I can’t think about us anymore. But you keep fucking crawling back into my life when I think it’s pretty obvious that I don’t want you around ever, and now we have to stand here and waste my time because you’re too selfish to think that maybe someone wouldn’t want to spend their whole life forgiving you for—”

“I’m going to Edmonton. Next season. And then I’m done.”

Kristen stopped, frowning at him. “The fuck are you talking about?”

“They don’t want me anymore.”

“And why does that matter to me?”

“It is my home. I… I know they’ll scratch me as soon as I get there.”

“You’re the one who fucked up, Xavier. This is on you.” She felt her shoulders tense. “You need to actually try, for once in your life.” Rolling her eyes, she continued. “You’re a good player. If you actually put some effort into this, you wouldn’t have to worry about that shit.”

Xavier watched her, a small smirk on his face.

“What?”

A laugh escaped from his stupid smile. “This is killing you. Complimenting me.”

“Of course, it is. Fucking asshole.” Kristen glanced down the hall, catching a glimpse of Kevin as he headed into the locker room. He was listening in, making sure Xavier didn’t do anything. It made her smile, which quickly disappeared as she looked back at the man in front of her.

“I loved you, Krissy. I hope you know that.”

Kristen smiled, a sad smile. A smile from someone who had heard the right thing at the wrong time. “I loved you, too. But, you know what? That’s the first time you’ve said that to me in person. Ever.” She turned closed her eyes for a second, swallowing hard. She knew there was so much more they both needed to say. They could help each other, if he would only let her. Instead, she turned away. “Thanks for the jacket.”

She walked away after that, the first time she had ever walked away from Xavier Laflamme. And, hopefully, the last.

Kristen stuffed her hands into her pockets. She paused, gripping a strange metal shape. The handcuffs seemed less than innocent and funny, more of a message from him to her. The keys, hanging from two separate chain necklaces that used to be around both of their necks, made her tear up.

Fucking asshole.

0—0—0

“Do we burn it?” Marc looked down at the plaid jacket, then up at Kristen. “Can we have a bonfire on the balcony?”

“I mean, I smoke out there, so…”

Max snorted. Marc and Kristen had invited Sid and Geno over, and Max had invited himself since he practically lived there anyway. They were all standing around the dreaded jacket in the living room after Kristen ranted for over an hour over Xavier’s stupidity. She hadn’t included the handcuffs, which she snuck into their room while the guys were getting dinner ready. Marc had tried his best to not think about what they would be doing later.

“Is not illegal to have fire in winter. Keep warm.”

“This isn’t Russia.”

“Hey, be nice.”

Max wiggled his eyebrows at Sid, making him blush. Marc couldn’t help but laugh.

“Maybe I should donate it.”

Marc sipped his beer, thankful for the excuse to not talk. Everything he had to say involved a long list of words that no one would want to hear.

“It looks pretty warm. Someone would like it.”

The group sighed simultaneously, looking at each other. Kristen pulled out her pipe, sticking her tongue out at Sid before going to the balcony.

“Dinner was good.” Sid piped up after the following silence, always unable to sit in a quiet room.

“You mean the microwaved leftovers in Flower’s fridge?” Max chugged the remaining drops from his beer. “We could’ve gone to my place. Do you think she’ll share?”

Marc shrugged, ignoring the complaints from Sid about how wonderful dinner really was. He had wanted to talk to her in private, maybe have some make-up sex. Although getting tipsy with his friends was good, too.

While Max and Kristen were out on the balcony, Geno put on a movie. Marc wasn’t focused enough to pay attention, and it seemed that the other couple was getting too drunk to care. Eventually, Max and Kristen came back, and the group was giggly and alive. Marc chose to watch the madness from his place on the couch, limiting himself to two beers. Someone needed to be somewhat sober.

Sid loosened up to the idea of smoking inside, although he refused to participate. Geno wholeheartedly joined in, slowly forgetting any English he learned, making Marc laugh uncontrollably because he, too, found it hard to translate what was in his brain.

“What are we going to do when Sid leaves us?” Max hung his arm around the Captain. “You’re like our… our…” He waved his hand around, looking for the words.

_“Hockey dad.”_ Marc chimed in. He couldn’t control his smile. _“He’s going to be such a hockey dad. Can you imagine?”_

“English.” Kristen smiled behind her glass of ginger ale. “Not all of us are smart enough to understand you.”

_“достаточно умный? никто из вас не узнал русский для меня.”_ Geno chuckled to himself.

“God, this is mayhem.” Kristen laughed, pulling herself up off the floor. “I’m having a smoke, if anyone wants to join me.”

The men all shook their heads. Marc watched her walk outside, she had pulled on one of his sweaters and her mismatched ensemble was too cute. He wondered if he should join her. It would probably be their only alone time, considering how tipsy and high the rest of the group was they wouldn’t be heading home until the morning.

_“Give her some time. We’ll give you space tonight.”_

He turned to Max, who was giving him an understanding smile. He started to object, but nodded, deciding it would be better to join the conversation.

0—0—0  
 **You didn’t have to keep those necklaces.**  
 **I know.**

Kristen looked out at the city around her. He was probably heading back on the road, watching the snow from his window seat. She wondered if anyone sat next to him, or if her space remained empty since she’d left. She wanted to say so much more, to apologize for thinking he was a lost cause. Even if he kind of was. But she didn’t.

**Thanks anyway, asshole.**   
**:)**


	16. From Eden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a quick blurb! consider this chapter 15 part 2. don't worry, there will be lots of fun next chapter :)

She didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know who was calling her. Who else would be sitting in front of Xavier on the plane ride home, listening to him drunkenly ramble about the girl who’d forgiven him?

“Hey.”

“Hey. Long time, eh?”

Kristen chuckled, although there was nothing humorous. “Yeah.”

Kevin sighed. He sounded tired, his voice husky and quiet. “I just talked to him.”

“You can say his name now.”

“Believe me, I can’t. I’m hiding in the toilets so he’d leave me alone.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to call people on airplanes?”

“They changed the rules for me. Listen, he thinks things are fine. He thinks you said things were fine. He showed me the texts.”

“I never said things were fine. I guess he might’ve gotten the impression I forgive him… which I guess I do.”

Kevin was silent for a moment, and she could almost hear the gears in his brain turning at what she’d just said. “You… forgive him?” He took a sharp inhale; he was frustrated. She’d heard that inhale too many times on the bench.

“I mean, yeah. Which is fucking insane, I know, it’s just, why not? We talked it out, things were okay. He gave me my stuff back, it was okay. If he really wanted to hurt me, he had multiple opportunities. And he didn’t.”

“You fucking FORGIVE him?”

“Yeah. Juice, what’s wrong?”

He was quiet again, apparently doing some form of breathing exercises.

“Kevin?”

“Are you fucking with me? You have to be fucking with me.”

Kristen lit another cigarette, glancing inside. The boys were laughing, having a good time, nothing for her to worry about. “No, I’m not, actually.” She felt a tinge of anger at his reaction. As if she didn’t have enough brain cells to decide when to let things go.

“He fucking BEAT—he fucking beat you, Kris. He threw you around like you were a fucking ragdoll. I had to stand there and act like I didn’t know my best friend was abusing his girlfriend. I had to watch you beat yourself up so that no one would question anything. Not to mention he got you hooked on that garbage—”

“Okay.”

They stayed silent for awhile. His breathing on the other end of the line was the only thing that let her know he was still there as the two cooled off. Eventually, she found the courage to speak.

“You know that I’ll always love you for what you did for me, getting me out of that situation. Without you I probably wouldn’t… wouldn’t be alive. So, I mean this with the utmost respect when I say that I need you to back off. You don’t have to take care of me anymore. Or Xavier. Focus on your family, please. Your kids.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… fuck, Kris. He’s going to get away with it. Forever. And you’re sitting there having to deal with the consequences of something you didn’t choose for the rest of your career.”

She shrugged, as if Kevin could see her. “That’s hockey. That's the NHL.”

“I guess it is. Hey, I’m gonna get going. Call me more, okay? I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. I will.”

The line went dead, and she sat looking at her phone. The picture of her and Kevin, posing in front of a mannequin wearing her jersey, brought tears to her eyes. It was the first time she’d seen her name and number in a store. He’d forced her to take the picture, and she pretended to be embarrassed even though she was really loving the attention.

It was crazy how fast things could change in the NHL. The game got faster, the players younger. One moment you were a superstar and the next you were a pariah. For half a season you were sure you’d be somewhere forever, getting used to the people around you, and a year later you were shipped off to somewhere new and doing it all over again. Except this time, it felt real.

0—0—0

“Is everything okay?”

Marc glanced down at Kristen. She was laying on his chest, a tangle of sweaty arms and legs and naked body parts in bed. She hadn’t been sleepily giggling at their nightly re-watch of Friends like she normally did.

“Kevin called me from the plane while I was out there.”

“You can call on airplanes now?”

“That’s what I said.” She smiled up at him, kissing his cheek. He felt a wave of warm happiness spread over him. “Anyway, we just had a really good talk. Made me realize how much I’ve changed.”

Marc nodded, unsure of what to say. He hadn’t known her before, although their coincidental run-ins leaned to the extreme, but he knew that she had been a completely different person before arriving in Pittsburgh. Hell, he had been, too.

“Xavier thinks that things are fine.”

“Are they?” He didn’t know if he wanted the answer.

Kristen seemed like she didn’t want to know the answer, either, choosing to hold him tighter instead. He chose to be okay with the silence that followed, even though the insecure part of him got paranoid. No answer meant she wasn’t sure. And that was okay, if he was constantly interrogated about his past lovers he wouldn’t be sure, either.

“I know I love you.” She whispered from where her face was tucked into his neck. Her breath tickled him.

“I know I love you, too.” He looked around the room before turning up the TV. “How would you feel about—”

“Round _deux? Oui.”_


	17. From Now On

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> couldn't help but post this chapter, too. two chapters in one day? i know, i'm an mvp

Time went by fast. November flew by, a winning streak came and went. December came, Kristen chopped her hair off in a fit of stubborn rage after a hard loss. Marc showed up to a practice wearing her very small hoodie and ripped sweatpants, cursing her name as he spied his own clothes lifted into the rafters while she and Geno laughed so hard they almost fell onto the ice. Xavier left her alone. She made new memories with those old handcuffs.

Eventually, the holiday break came.

Now, it wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy Christmas. She liked getting and giving presents, seeing people’s smiling faces and eating until she felt like she might explode. She had made a new family, and that was what mattered.

What hurt was that everyone else still had their old families. And they wanted to see those families over the holidays, rather than watch Elf on repeat in her living room. Not like she could be mad at them, she would be doing the same thing if she could.

“You okay?”

Kristen realized she’d been standing at the kitchen sink, staring at the backsplash for far longer than a normal person would. Marc sat at the table, eyeing her warily.

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry, you were saying?”

“I wasn’t saying anything.” He smiled. “Tell me what you were thinking.”

She sighed, putting the mug she had been rinsing out back into the sink and walking over to him. She put her arms around his shoulders, kissing the top of his head. “Just about Christmas. How weird it is not having everyone around.” Their crew had been at the apartment almost every day before then, to the point where she felt like she was living with four other men instead of just one.

“Max is always around. We can invite him over?” Marc grabbed her arm, pulling her onto his lap. “We’ll get a tree?”

Kristen laughed at the image of the three of them decorating a tree. “Hey, shouldn’t you be visiting someone? Your parents?”

Marc shrugged. “I usually spend Christmas with Max.” He kissed her cheek, making her wiggle from the pokey stubble that had become his norm. “Now I spend it with you.”

Kristen didn’t pry, understanding how rough family could be. Living so far away from them would always have an effect. She kissed his lips, sinking closer to his body. Things had been better than good between the two of them.

“So, we get a tree. Is it too late for that?”

“You’re a star player. I’m sure we can find a tree last minute. Or Max can sleep with someone, that’ll get us a tree.” Kristen got up from his lap, ruffling his hair. “I’ll get ready.”

“Oh, so we’re doing this now?”

“Of course, we are.”

0—0—0

Sid took a deep breath, looking in the mirror. He had never felt uncomfortable in a suit, but that day was different. His family was in town, which meant Geno wasn’t around. Not that he wanted to hide his relationship from his family, but the less people that knew, the better. According to G.

He stared into the mirror. There were dark circles under his eyes due to the recurring nightmares of concussions, partnered with not having his boyfriend around to coax him back to bed. He’d stayed up until the early hours of the morning, reviewing gameplay that he’d seen one thousand times before, and the world felt blurry and strange. Coffee. That would help.

He was going to tell his family. Maybe not that he was in a relationship with a teammate, he’d already heard their opinions on that when Flower and Stew came out, but that he was… gay. And that he was okay with that. And that was that.

0—0—0

“This one’s nice.”

Kristen frowned at the neon pink tree that Max was pointing at. The smile on his face made her feel bad for shaking her head. “Put that in your house.”

“How about I get a small one and you’ll put it in the corner, because I’ll be spending the night at yours anyway?”

Marc snorted from his place in front of the decorations. _“Bien sûr, vous serez.”_

_“De ce que je me rappelle, il y a une autre personne dans le ménage qui peut prendre cette décision.”_

“Play nice, boys.” Kristen pointed at a black tree. “Black tree, yellow decorations. Do you think Sid already thought of that idea?”

“I know he did.” Marc sighed. “Why not green?”

“That’s boring!” Max grabbed his pink tree, hugging it close to him as he picked it up and threw it into the cart. “Do black. And then Flower gets to pick all the decorations.” He smirked at her horrified look. “That way you both did something.”

“I kind of assumed that I would be in full control.” Kristen pointed her finger at Marc. “Make good decisions.” She joined Max on his quest to find some brand of microwave dinners, leaving Marc to fend for himself in the Christmas section.

“I was joking by the way. I don’t have to come over on Christmas.” He winked at her, dodging a depressed soccer mom with her two rowdy kids. They looked up at him and pointed, and he smiled back, making them yell at their mom more. Needless to say, a lot of pictures and questions went by before they could continue their journey. “I mean, the only reason I did that with Flower was because both of us were alone. Kinda like Sid and Geno, but… not.”

“How did that start, anyway?”

“Oh, that’s a story that they’ll have to tell.” Max opened the door of a freezer, frowning at the frozen dinners. “Is meatloaf Christmasy?”

“I wish they would just tell me, you know?” She closed the freezer door. “You’re letting all the cold out. Also, I’m making dinner.”

“They’ll never tell anyone on purpose. Me and Flower walked in on them. So, I guess you’ll have to walk in on them. What are you making?”

Kristen looked around the store, avoiding eye contact with multiple people as she did so. Her outfit seemed too trashy and lazy for her to be in public in. Especially when everyone had their eyes on her. “I didn’t think of that. But I’ll figure it out. We still have two days.”

“Frozen meatloaf.”

“Shut up.”

0—0—0

“Honey, what’s wrong?” Sid’s mother touched his hand gently, also pausing the intense shaking of his leg that he hadn’t realized he’d been doing. He shook his head at her, careful to keep a kind smile on his face.

“Yes, sorry. Got distracted.” He waved his hand for Taylor to continue, nodding along every once in awhile to avoid suspicion. In reality, his mind was stuck on Geno, on what he would say when he found out that Sid was coming out. Only to his family, sure, but what if it started a landslide to the point where he told the world?

It wouldn’t be that bad. The internet had called it long before even he had realized.

His parents had insisted that they order in a pizza, which already ruined step one of his game plan (yes, it was a real plan, written down on a piece of paper in his pocket): buy them an expensive dinner, maybe get them a little drunk. Loosen everyone up. Instead, they were sitting in his living room, him way too overdressed, watching some Christmas movie that he couldn’t pay attention to.

It would be better if he just threw it out there. Get it out in the open, like a bandaid. Simple and easy.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Taylor stopped her rant to look at him. “You seem off. Are you sick? Don’t touch me.”

“No, no. It’s nothing like that.”

“Tell us, honey.” His mother’s hand was back on his. “What’s wrong?”

“I, um…” He turned to his dad, who was shoving a piece of pizza in his mouth. “I’ve had something on my mind. Something kinda important.”

“You can tell us.”

His father nodded in agreement.

“Well…” Sid reached into his pocket, unfolding the piece of paper covered in chicken scratch. His plan was failing miserably. On the bottom he’d written a speech.

“Oh, God.” Taylor rolled her eyes when she saw the paper. “He made a plan.”

“I did not.” He answered defensively, pulling the paper closer to him. “It’s just, uh…”

“Is it easier if we don’t look at you? Everyone, turn around.” His mother turned to face the opposite wall, smacking his father’s arm until he did the same. Taylor picked at her pizza, sneakily looking at him.

Like a bandaid. He needed to get things over with.

“I know you’ve been asking about my love life.” Sid cleared his throat. They hadn’t been asking, he’d been planning on bringing it up after getting them tipsy. “And I know that I’ve been pretty quiet about the whole thing. That’s mostly because of my lack of time—”

“Being a professional super star and all—”

“Shut up, Tay. My lack of time makes things difficult, but that’s not the whole reason. I’m, well…” His throat closed up, and he looked at the backs of his parents’ heads, hoping they’d read his mind. “I’m…”

“Oh, my God.” Taylor covered her mouth, but he could still see the smile on her face. “You’re—”

“I’m gay.”

“I knew it!”

“Taylor!” His mother turned around, frowning at his sister before turning to him. “Oh, honey…”

“I know that it’s not… the best thing to hear. But I just can’t not say it anymore.”

“Honey.” She reached her hand to touch his cheek, a small smile on her face and tears in her eyes. “It’s—It’s wonderful. I am so happy for you.”

His dad was watching them, still eating his pizza. He said nothing but nodded in agreement.

“You’re happy?” Sid laughed nervously, twiddling his thumbs. “Why?”

“Well, all we want is for you to be happy. With yourself, with your life. And we know that you’re beyond happy here, but I could tell something was bothering you. And I’m just so happy.” The tears started falling, making Sid’s eyes water. “You are our son, of course we love you no matter what. Thank you for telling us.”

He turned to his father. “And you’re okay with this?”

“Okay with what? That you love people? Of course, I’m okay with this, kiddo. And I agree with everything your mother has said.” He ruffled Sid’s hair, making him cry.

“Did you guys know already? Is this one of those situations?”

“I just thought you had really high standards in women.” Mom grabbed another piece of pizza, smirking at him.

“Well, I do. They just, uh… They need to be men.”

His father started laughing, hard, which made everyone else chuckle. Taylor grabbed his hand, grinning at him. Things were okay, somehow. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but the feeling of love in the room made him cry harder, from happiness.

“So, are you dating anyone?” Taylor winked at him. He knew that she could easily guess with this new information, but he looked at the floor in order to make up a lie anyway.

“Kind of.”

“Oh, tell us!” His mom was practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

“I think I should talk to him first. Make sure he’s okay with it, you know?”

His family nodded, although his sister gave him a knowing look.

Shit. Now he had to tell Geno.

0—0—0

“That looks… like something.”

Marc stifled a laugh as he stood beside Kristen, staring at Max’s tree. The other man had fallen asleep on the couch watching a movie.

The neon pink tree wasn’t technically ugly, but the matching pink decorations, somehow meticulously chosen while Kristen and Marc were taking pictures, were a lot for the eyes to handle. Paired with a fluffy pink star placed on top, it was everything Max had promised it would be and more.

“It’s like we have a daughter. A big, hairy daughter.” Kristen whispered as she looked at Max. She shrugged. “Cute.”

“It’s starting to grow on me.” Marc looked over at their tree. “Ours is better, though.” It was classic, and his shit-mix of decorations seemed to work well with their living room. 

“Hey, I’m going out. Come with?” Kristen raised her eyebrows at him, throwing on a random jacket that was piled on top of their kitchen table and her smokes. Marc was unsure why she’d want to stop staring at Max snore, but he joined her anyway out on the balcony.

The sun had already set, and the lights of Pittsburgh shone brightly in the night. He plopped into a chair, pulling his jacket tighter around his face. How she came outside multiple times a night, he would never understand.

“It’s so beautiful.” She lit her cigarette, reaching with her free hand to hold his. “We should get a heater out here.”

“I told you you can smoke inside. Just open the door a bit.” He chuckled as she frowned at him, shaking her head. “Or you could quit. Wouldn’t be so cold all the time.”

“I like it. I barely ever go outside except for this.” She waved her smoke at him. “See, there’s pros to this.”

Marc just rolled his eyes at her. She looked beautiful that night, that whole day really, not that he was surprised. Her short hair framed her face beautifully, making her look intimidating but in a… hot way? Again, he wasn’t surprised. She could pull off anything if she tried.

“You look beautiful.”

Kristen looked over at him, seemingly surprised at the sudden affection he was showing. “Thank you. You do, too.” She smiled at him. “I had a lot of fun today. I’ve been having a lot of fun since I met you.”

“I have, too. It’s crazy, actually, how we haven’t gotten sick of each other yet.”

She smacked his shoulder playfully. “Yeah, thought I’d be sick of your dad jokes by now.”

Marc smirked. “I’m serious. I just… I never thought I’d be with someone that makes me happy every day. That makes me feel loved like this every day.”

Kristen’s smile got bigger, and she leaned over, kissing his cheek. He brought his hand up to her chin, turning her head to him and kissing her softly. She moaned against his mouth, making him shiver.

“Do you think anyone would notice if we…”

“We’re not fucking on our balcony.” Kristen pulled away, giggling. “Or anywhere close to our foster child.” She turned to look into the living room. “Don’t want to damage him anymore than he already is.”

“I think he’s hit his limit. Nothing we could do would make it worse.”

Marc watched her laugh. It was probably just the spirit of the holidays, but he couldn’t believe where he was in his life. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

“That we’re… on a balcony?”

“No, no. Just… a year ago I was sitting here with Max, four beers in, crying about how I didn’t feel happy. I felt so stupid, I’d just been called one of the top goalies in the league and there I was, depressed and hiding it too well. Just so sad. And Max held my hand and told me I was going to find happiness soon. I didn’t believe him.” Marc was suddenly overwhelmed with emotion. He felt his eyes tear up and looked out at the city in front of them. “Here I am now, with someone who loves me, and I want to cry because I’m so goddamn happy, not sad. And Max was right.”

“Oh… Marc…” Kristen squeezed his hand gently. He could feel her eyes on him, but he couldn’t look over, knowing he would burst into tears when he saw her eyes. “You mean so fucking much to me. I can’t even—oh, my God.”

He looked over quickly, the shock in her voice scaring him, to see Max pressing his face against the glass door, turning his head to try and look at the couple.

_“Fucker. Always ruins the moment.”_

0—0—0

“I have to tell you something.”

“What happen? You okay?”

“Yeah, G, it’s nothing like that. Listen, can you come over tomorrow?”

“What wrong, Sid? I video call parents tomorrow after family skate.”

“Oh, shit. Yeah, no, okay that won’t work. It’s okay, really. I forgot it was Christmas tomorrow.”

“How you forget? Is special day—”

“It’s okay, G. I’ll see you at the rink, okay?”

“Okay… I’m have time, you tell me about day? Is family good?”

“Yeah. Better than good.”

0—0—0

“Hey, it’s Christmas, fuckheads! Wake up!”

Kristen jolted out of her deep sleep, almost falling off the bed. Marc jumped, too, hitting his elbow on the bedside table.

_“Putain de visage de baise. Réveille-nous comme une personne normale, baiseur!”_

“You okay?” She smirked as he muttered more profanities in French.

_“Joyeux putain de noël,_ douchebag!” Max called from the hallway, obviously right outside of their door. Kristen pulled the covers over herself in preparation for him to burst in. Not that he hadn’t seen it before, anyway. “Oh, and Merry Christmas to the anglophone!”

“Thanks, Max.”

“So, I made breakfast when you guys decide to get clothed.”

“Is he always like this on Christmas?” Kristen whispered to Marc, who was busy pulling on a pair of sweatpants and still swearing away.

“Yes. This is actually quite tame. Last year he decided he’d jump on the bed.”

“We really do have a child.”

“Perfect. It’s the family skate today.”

Max had made French toast, and the three scarfed down their food in preparation for the big day. The team had warned her about the family skate. It was fun but involved a lot of children and a lot of energy. As someone who had neither of those things, Kristen knew she would be exhausted by the end of the morning.

“So, when are we doing presents?”

“I’ll need something to keep me awake when we get back.” Kristen chugged back the last of her tea. “A nap already sounds like a good idea.”

“Are you saying you’re going to… crush a nap?” Marc grinned at her, quoting their Captain’s famous line. She and Max rolled their eyes, groaning at the bad joke.

After cleaning up their dishes (which turned into an adventure after Max decided to spray Kristen with dish soap), the three made their way out the door and to the arena. The men refused to take any car other than the Tesla, forcing Kristen to drive and listen to the insane French rap playlist that the men had made back in the old days.

The rink was bustling with activity, children bragging about the presents they’d gotten that morning and families catching up. It was rare that Kristen got to see her teammates in dad mode. The reminder that all of the men had families who sometimes didn’t get to see them for days at a time made her enjoy the idea of the get-together more.

Marc and Max immediately gravitated to Cookie’s kid, who apparently had the same tough spirit as his father, leaving her to awkwardly pull her skates on and watch the crowd. Sid was late, out of character even on Christmas morning, but his family was more than happy to take the blame, saying they’d made him open presents before they left. He seemed off, a little nervous, and kept asking where Geno was in a hushed voice when his parents weren’t around.

Last in was Tanger, his arm around the back of a young, blonde woman. She found her way to the rest of the wives and girlfriends, introducing herself.

“Hey, is that—”

“Catherine.” Tanger smiled proudly at her. Kristen couldn’t help but smile back.

“She’s beautiful. I’m happy she could come.”

“Me, too. It’s mostly just been texts and calls, but I mentioned all of this,” he motioned around the room, “to her and she said she had to come meet everyone. Speaking of, you still owe me a double date.”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “It seems like you guys are doing fine without us.”

Tanger shrugged. “Then I won’t tell you about the Dallas Incident.” He playfully smirked as she frowned at him, knowing that she would forever be curious about what that was exactly.

“Fine. Come over tomorrow.”

0—0—0

It wasn’t that Geno thought Sid was avoiding him on purpose, he didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. It was that the feeling in his chest (jealousy?) from watching his teammates so easily spend time with their loved ones hurt, and he needed a decent fuck in a janitor’s closet to make it better.

He could almost hear Sid’s reaction to him asking for it. ‘Geeeno, stoooop.’ With a blush that went all the way under his shirt, flushing his chest.

But here he was standing with Max, who couldn’t stop staring at Tanger’s girlfriend for some reason, not kissing his boyfriend’s neck and whispering dirty things in his native tongue. Trying his best to think appropriate thoughts with all the kids near by.

“Take picture.” He finally turned to Talbo, who didn’t seem to realize how obvious his staring was. No one else was going to say it.

“What?” Max whipped his head around, almost taking out a child as he turned dramatically away from the Catherine and Tanger Show.

“It last longer.”

“Shut up.”

Geno couldn’t help but laugh, although Max’s face told him it was the wrong choice. He immediately stopped, dipping his head to cover his mouth with the neck of his jersey.

“Where’s your lover, anyway?” Max’s voice had an edge to it that only fueled Geno’s joking more.

“Over there.” He pointed to where Sid was pretending to drop the gloves with someone’s kid. “You not see him?”

“God, you’re worse than Flower.”

Kristen skated over, and Geno silently thanked God for buffering him from Max’s misery. She could make him feel better, whatever was bothering him.

“Hello, hello.” She nodded at the men, and Geno ruffled her hair.

“Have fun?”

“I am! We have a lot of mini-NHLers in our midst. Hey, what’s wrong?” She looked at Max, concerned. “Did Tanger do something?”

He only nodded, and Geno shrugged at her. “I’m don’t know.”

Tanger and Catherine made their loop around towards the group, and Max tried to skate away, making Kristen grab his arm and pull him back.

“This is cruel.”

“Just talk to them.” She waved the couple over. “Hey, has Catherine met these lovely men?”

“Oh, yeah.” Tanger helped his girlfriend stop in front of them. Geno wanted to joke that she could do better but figured his wording would backfire and they would end up hating him. Or Tanger would go back into angst mode, at the very least. “Cat, this is Geno and Max. You probably know Kristen.”

“Hey.” Kristen smiled at her. Geno nodded.

Catherine smiled back uncomfortably, avoiding Max’s gaze. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“How’s it been with the WAGs? Anybody bugging you?” Kristen joked, but it fell through and Catherine just shook her head.

“Well, I’m sure we’ll see you again.” Tanger nodded at them before pulling Catherine along.

“What’s up?” Kristen turned back to Max as soon as they were out of earshot.

“It’s nothing.”

“Is not nothing. He stare all day.” Geno chimed in, giving Max a look. The last thing he wanted was more drama on Christmas.

“I’ll tell you later.”

Geno watched the other man skate away. Kristen skated after him, probably to bug him more.

He tried his best to distract himself with the baby Penguins, although his gaze kept falling on Sid. It seemed that no matter where he was, Sid was on the opposite side, surrounded by people. Which was fine, they’d promised they wouldn’t be obvious about their relationship. But, wouldn’t it be weird if they didn’t talk to each other at all?

After a quick pick-up game in which Geno ended up bumping into Sid accidentally-on-purpose five times, the morning was officially over. The kids wanted to get back to their new toys, and the adults wanted to sleep.

He was pulling his jacket on when he caught Sid staring. It was the stare that he used to have before they got together, the I-want-more stare, the one he knew drove Geno crazy. He was sure that the rest of the guys could tell, they were probably staring at him staring at Geno, which made it even better.

He pretended he didn’t notice, however, choosing to bend over to grab his hockey bag. Two could play at that game.

“Nice ass.” Marc walked by, knocking his shin gently with his stick.

“Fuck off.” Geno stood back up, sticking his tongue out and hoisting his bag over his shoulder. Sid had looked away by that point, making him sigh. He was hoping the janitor’s closet would still be on the table.

Most of the team left by the time Sid had finished taking off his skates, including his family, who insisted on taking a cab so that he could talk to his team. Taylor gave him a serious glance as they left. Something was going on. Sid had told him it was nothing serious, it didn’t have to do with his family… what else would he talk with his family about?

Oh. Oh, God, no.

Geno swallowed hard, hoping no one could see him internally panicking. Why would Sid tell them that without talking to him? Why would Sid tell them even if he had talked to him, he knew the answer would be no. Max and Flower knowing was already too much.

“It’s Catherine, okay?”

Max and Kristen had somehow ended up beside him, and he pulled his jacket tighter around his body, as if that would hide his fear about Sid.

“Yeah, and? I need more than that.”

“Catherine? 'Catherine I-Don’t-Date-Hockey-Players' Laflamme? Catherine, stood me up?”

Kristen’s jaw dropped, looking back and forth from the door to Max. Geno wasn’t sure if his panic was making translation difficult, but he didn’t get it.

“Why would she come here? It’s obvious you’d be here. Does Tanger know? Oh, my God, what a bitch.”

Max blushed, and Geno could see the hurt in his eyes. There was too many things happening at once, his brain couldn’t take it.

“She bitch. You do better.” He pointed at Max, his anxiety turning into anger. He wasn’t involved in any important discussion that day. Max looked up at him, a little shocked, but Geno turned to Sid. “I talk to you outside.”

“G…”

“I’m need to talk all day.” He practically stomped out of the room. He knew it was immature, but fuck if he was going to spend his Christmas without his boyfriend.

Sid took long enough to get into the hall that Geno started to feel silly. His outburst was seemingly out of nowhere, at least to everyone else.

“I’m sorry.” Sid was looking at the ground before he even closed the door. “I didn’t mean to ignore you, I just got so caught up with the kids…”

“Is okay. Sorry, too.” Geno touched his shoulder, and Sid looked up and down the hallway. “No one here. Is Christmas.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” He relaxed slightly, allowing Geno to pull him in for a hug. “Today’s been… a lot.” He buried his face deeper into Geno’s chest.

“You want to talk about something? You tell me last night.”

“Oh, G. It’s, uh… I don’t think I should say it here.”

“No other time.” Geno wasn’t going to go all day not knowing. “Tell.”

Sid pulled away, leaning against the wall. He looked like he might pass out. “I told my parents. And Taylor.”

Even though he already knew, hearing the words out loud brought the anxiety back. He unzipped his jacket, opting for any chance of fresh air instead of protection. A jacket couldn’t stop this, anyway.

“What they think?”

“They’re so happy, G. They want me to be happy, and I told them I am, and they’re so happy.” He was crying. “I didn’t tell them about us, but… I want to. I want to tell.”

“Tell parents, or?” It was Geno’s turn to look like he was going to pass out. That word made his stomach cramp.

“At the very least.” Sid grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. “This has been a weight on my shoulders for my whole life, G. I thought if I said it out loud, I would lose everything. But I’m still here, and you’re still here, and we can do this.”

“So, we tell everyone?” Geno couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He couldn’t believe that he was going along with it, as if this is what he wanted all along. Although… maybe it was. Maybe this was what they both needed. To just be honest.

“I—I think we should.” Sid’s tears were drying, replaced by a smile that was hindering on crazy. “And I think that… I think that…” He pulled Geno closer by the sides of his jacket, so that their bodies were pressed together. Then his hands were in Geno’s hair, pulling his face towards his for a kiss that made his heart almost stop.

It was so easy to just give in. To stop fighting it the way they had years ago. It would let them move forward, and Geno could give him all the things he truly wanted to. He knew where the conversation was headed, he could feel the box in Sid’s pocket as they grinded against each other, but he didn’t want to admit that he wanted it, too. The same way he hadn’t admitted it when they first met.

Sid pulled away just enough that he could look into Geno’s eyes. And then there were the words that he’d dreamed about hearing for so long.

“Marry me.”

And it was suddenly incredibly easy to say yes.

0—0—0

Kristen sat outside of the janitor’s closet while Marc comforted Max. She had headphones in, although the banging against the door was enough to give her a mental image of her captains going at it.

If anyone asked, she was doing her team a favour. If Sid and Geno asked, she liked the view of the brick wall from the closet.

0—0—0

“Thanks for waiting.”

Marc nodded as Kristen got in the car. He looked in the rear-view mirror at Max, who was laying in the back seat with his hands over his face.

“How’s it going?” Kristen started the car. Max grunted in reply.

“I think we should open presents when we get home.” Marc knew it was the only way to cheer his friend up. Kristen simply nodded in understanding.

“I have something that might cheer you up.” She was grinning. “I played guard to a couple of hooligans banging in the janitor’s closet.”

Max snorted. “I think I can guess.”

“They fuck like rabbits.”

“You’re one to talk.”

Marc smiled. He was back to normal, at least as normal as he could be, given the situation.

The rest of the ride was silent, and the three were more than happy to be at home after trying to be good hosts the whole morning. Max even laughed when he walked in at the sight of his neon pink tree.

“That is a lot. I can’t believe you let me do that.”

“Anything for our Max.” Kristen patted his head before jumping onto the couch and turning on Elf. Marc pretended to groan, even though he was secretly looking forward to the crappy movie.

_“Hey, I need to talk to you before we start all this. I have something for you.”_ Max grabbed his arm, holding his finger up before Kristen complained. “One second.”

“Is there a reason you’re dragging me into the bedroom?” Marc raised his eyebrows as Max closed the door.

_“I got something. You might hate it, and it’s not really for you, more like for both of you, but this is your responsibility and I know that you’ll never do it, so…”_

Max reached into the pocket of his cardigan, pulling out a small, wrapped box. Marc grabbed it hesitantly, watching his reaction as he turned it around in his hands.

“What is it?”

_“In French, my friend. She can’t know. Open it.”_

Marc slowly undid the wrapping paper. He didn’t realize how nervous he was until he was holding the velvet box in his hands. “Max…”

_“I know, it’s crazy. But listen, I know you’re going to need this at some point, and I figured maybe you’d like it?”_

_“Is this a fucking engagement ring?”_ He was sweating, too scared to look inside.

Max nodded in excitement, and Marc felt like he might be sick.


	18. Time After Time

“We should get up.”

Marc sighed, looking at the clock. Tanger and Catherine would be there in an hour. “We have enough time.”

“Marc.” Kristen brought her head out from under the blankets, smiling at him smugly. “First off all, you need less than an hour. Secondly, I need to clean up.”

He jokingly started to push her head back down, longing for her mouth back on his… “Fine. You’re right.”

“I’ll make it up to you later.” She crawled back up to her place beside him on the bed, ruffling his hair. “Blame Max, if he’d cleaned up last night this could still be happening.”

He laughed, although the mention of Max made him nervous. He would never be able to blame his friend for anything again. The ring was big, and beautiful, and was definitely more money than Marc would’ve spent on something like that, and Max thought he was doing it today. Max hadn’t cleaned up the night before because he knew Marc would owe him for the rest of his life.

Kristen left the bed to get ready, leaving Marc alone with his thoughts and that fucking ring. He’d put it in his bedside drawer, inside of a sock in hopes that would deter someone from digging deeper.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t thought about it before, the idea of marrying her. But they’d been together for months, not years. And wasn’t that always the best way to do something, to wait years to make sure it was the right option?

Except that didn’t feel right. Their whole relationship had moved quickly (whether it was due to necessity or because they were meant for each other, he would always wonder), so why not make this decision when it felt like it was time? And now was the perfect time.

“Is this too… casual?” Kristen came out of the bathroom, motioning to her Penguins hoodie and trackies. “We’re just having lunch. Here. For some reason.” She was mad that Tanger wasn’t taking them out and had been ranting about it for most of the night before.

“I think it’s more golf club casual.”

“Fuck.”

Marc smiled as she dug through their closet, complaining that she didn’t own any clothes as multiple dresses fell on her head.

That was why he loved her. That was why it was going to happen today.

0—0—0

“Hey!”

Kristen tried her best to smile at the other woman, given what she’d done to Max. There were so many questions that she wanted answers to, but it had been hard to figure out how to bring them up in a casual date setting.

“Hey, guys.” Tanger pulled her in for a hug, then moved on to Marc.

“You can take your shoes off if you want.” Kristen tried her best not to stare at Catherine’s heels.

“Oh, um… No, it’s okay, thanks.” She glanced around the apartment. “This is… cute. I love the lights. Throwback to high school, am I right?”

“Uh… yeah. I guess.” Kristen looked to Marc for support.

“Actually, there’s a pretty cool story about—”

“That’s really great.” Catherine smiled politely before making her way to the dining room to meet up with Tanger.

“Is she…”

“A giant bitch? Yes. I don’t know how I’m going to make it through this.”

The beginning of lunch was awkward, thanks to Catherine choosing to speak in her perfectly fluent French. Marc tried his best to steer the conversation back to a language they all spoke, without much success. Tanger picked at his food in silence.

“So, you were going to tell us about the Dallas Incident?” Kristen spoke up, interrupting Catherine’s French mumbling that was obviously making Marc uncomfortable. “What does that even mean?”

“Geno and Seguin.” Marc wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“What? Seriously?” Finally, some conversation she could get behind. “When was this?”

“Okay, round two of the playoffs. We’re up 3-0 in the series, playing in Dallas. I’m heading to my hotel room, maybe a little tipsy, and Geno’s been gone for a couple of hours. No one’s seen him. Sid stops me in the hallway, asks me to check their room and gives me the door key. Of course, I’m wondering why he doesn’t want to go in there himself. So, Sid wanders off, and I’m expecting G to be in there asleep, or jerking off, or something—"

“Kris!” Catherine giggled. “That’s inappropriate.”

“I have a feeling this whole story is inappropriate.” Marc mumbled behind his wine glass. Kristen couldn’t help but snort.

“Anyway, I walk in there and…”

“Oh, my God, did you have to see…”

“There’s no one in the room. Lights are on, clothes on the floor, a couple of suits, which I didn’t question at the time. Bathroom light is on, and I figure I should check and see if the poor kid’s alive in there. So, I knock, and he yells in that voice he does when he’s in trouble, you know the one, to come back in half an hour. I ask if he’s all good, and he doesn’t answer, and of course I’m under the influence so I decide to just go in anyway.”

Kristen grabbed Marc’s hand in anticipation. She couldn’t help but notice that Catherine immediately did the same.

“I walk in, and he’s in the shower. I’m about to apologize when I realize he’s raw-dogging some chick. For some reason, I start laughing, because the whole situation is pretty funny, and then they both jump and turn around and cover themselves, and it’s not a chick. In my head, I’m thinking, ‘okay, so he’s into dudes, that’s fine and also somehow not surprising,’ when I focus on the dude’s face and it’s…”

“Holy shit.” Kristen leaned back in her chair. “What did you do?”

“I just kinda backed away. I honestly had no idea how to react.” Tanger chuckled. “We haven’t talked about it since.”

Marc snorted. Catherine’s lack of a reaction was slightly worrying to Kristen, but she smiled along anyway.

“That’s why Dallas was so fun.” Kristen smirked. “We all had some history.”

“Oh, you dated someone from there, too?”

The three looked at Catherine. Marc frowned, and Kristen tried her best to laugh.

“No, no. I just played with one of the guys in the WHL. He was kind of a dick.”

“Sure.” The other woman smiled smugly back, bringing with it an awkward silence as everyone pretended to eat. Kristen had no idea how she was going to make it through the afternoon. “So, enough hockey talk. How did you guys get together?”

Marc grabbed Kristen’s hand. “Well, I was always kind of into her—”

“More than kind of.”

_“Foutre le camp._ I guess it just worked in my favour. I somehow tricked her into dating me.”

“They hooked up after a game.” Tanger turned to his date, winking.

“Well, we got blazed after a loss, and then hooked up.”

“Oh. Romantic.” Catherine covered her mouth with her wine glass to hide her smile. Tanger frowned at her, but quickly went back to eating.

Marc was obviously done with her behaviour, and leaned forward, his elbows on the table. “So, what happened with Max?”

“Oh, my god, Marc…”

“No. Tell us that _romantique_ story.”

“Marc!” Kristen raised her eyebrows as she turned to Catherine. “I’m so sorry.” She really wasn’t.

“Well, _ça ne te regarde pas.”_ She responded.

Marc pursed his lips, a type of petty anger Kristen hadn’t seen from him before, and got up from his seat. “Who wants more wine?”

“I’ll clear the dishes.” Catherine got up as well, snatching the plates from the table.

The two headed to the kitchen, arguing in words that Kristen couldn’t understand, leaving her and Tanger alone.

“I’m really sorry, Kris.”

“I kind of expected it. Talbo hasn’t answered my texts since he saw us.”

Kristen nodded. “Honestly, I’m mad, too. Not at you, just… she hasn’t talked to him since she stood him up.” Her mind went back to how excited he’d been for the date, the devastated sound in his voice when he called Marc afterwards.

“I had no idea when we started dating, if that makes it better.”

A crash came from the kitchen, making them jump. They both slowly turned to look over the island, where Catherine and Marc were still silently fighting in French.

“What are they saying?”

Kris shook his head, starting to smile. “Nothing more wine can’t fix. At least on her end. I’ll have to listen to it on the way home, but after…” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Ew. God.”

0—0—0

“Don’t want to go tomorrow. We stay here.”

Sid looked up from where he was curled up against Geno’s side. The other man was pouting at the idea of practice and video the next morning.

“We have to go. You can show off your ring.” He glanced at the engagement ring, a simple steel band with the date they met engraved on the inside. He’d bought it a month after they got together.

“Won’t wear it, I don’t want to lose.” Geno kissed the top of his head.

Sid noticed that he was rubbing his thumb against the ring, as if to get used to the weight on his finger. “Do you like it?”

“Of course. I’m like when you show me first time.”

He thought back to when he’d gotten down on one knee at his summer cottage, the sunset behind them, just to have G tell him it wasn’t the right time. It had stung, he’d almost thrown the ring in the lake, but Geno had kept it safe in his suitcase until they got back to Pittsburgh, storing it in Sid’s dresser drawer. That was what kept Sid going.

“Hey, have something for you.” Geno tapped his shoulder, standing up when Sid moved. He couldn’t help but stare as he nonchalantly walked to the other side of the room, completely confident in his nakedness. He came back with a sock.

“Thank you?” Sid chuckled as he held the heavy sock in his hands.

“Is inside.”

He stuck his hand inside, pulling out a simple, matte black ring box. “Oh, my God… G…”

“I’m buy that summer. Too nervous to give to you.”

Sid opened the box slowly. The ring was the same silver colour as the one he’d gotten for Geno, except with a small diamond in the center. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Like you.” Geno held his hand out, and Sid reluctantly handed him the ring. He motioned for him to hold his fingers out. “I put on.” He slid the ring onto Sid’s finger. _“я люблю тебя.”_

“I love you, too, so much. So, so much.” Sid couldn’t stop staring as the diamond caught the light. The only thing that stopped him was the urge to grab Geno’s face in his hands and kiss him like it was the first time.

0—0—0

Kristen shut the door, grateful. Not that she didn’t like the high school-esque drama, but spending the day after Christmas in an awkward lunch was not the dream.

“Wow.” Marc grabbed her in his arms, leaning his chin on her head.

“That was a lot. Thanks for sticking up for Max.”

Marc shrugged as she buried her head into the warmth of his chest. “Needed to be said.”

They stood by the door for awhile, just holding each other. She didn’t want to think about the practice the next day, or the game after that. The time off had been great.

“I found something on Youtube last night.” Marc leaned back, holding her by her shoulders. “You’ll like it.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, grabbing her hand and dragging her to the living room. The sight of Max’s neon tree still made her laugh while she waited for him to pull up the video.

“I think we should keep that tree. It really ties the room together.”

Marc snorted but didn’t deny it. They were keeping the tree.

“Okay, so it’s a little weird, but I thought it was cute, maybe?” He handed her the tablet. A video with both of their faces looked back at her. “It’s like a momento.”

She hit play, and a love song started playing. She wasn’t sure whether she should smile or start crying. The first image was her kissing him, in front of everyone. The scope of what she did hit her then, seeing the shocked faces in the background. The announcer was cheering in the background.

“I had no idea people paid attention to that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? You’re a superstar kissing a loser like me.” He put his arm around her shoulders.

Kristen let out a sigh as the video showed them joking around and laughing, their subtle comforting actions after a loss, even the small seconds they’d skated a lap together at the family skate (how did they get the footage so fast?), holding hands and talking.

“I just… I didn’t know people could care about me, about us, in a good way.” She felt a happy tear roll down her cheek. “I don’t get it.”

Marc simply nodded in agreement. They watched the video in silence until it ended.

Kristen was sure she saw him trying to pull something out of his pocket, then changing his mind as he struggled. But she ignored it.

0—0—0

Getting up the next morning was more than hard. The majority of the team had multiple coffee cups beside them by the time Marc and Kristen made their way into the locker room.

Marc was offered a cup as soon as he sat down, and he took it gratefully.

“How was lunch?”

He looked up to see Max above him, hands in his pockets and looking at the floor.

“It was okay. _Got in an argument with his girlfriend.”_

Max smiled at that, nodding and patting the top of Marc’s head. “Thank you.” With that, he was back to his locker.

Marc got ready slowly, pulling on his pads and taking as long as he could to get his shoulder pads on. Sid and Geno walked in, smiling, and Tanger strolled in behind them, heading directly to Marc.

_“Hey, I just wanted to apologize for yesterday. I don’t know why she got so upset.”_ Kris toyed with his tie as he continued. _“She’s really sorry.”_

Marc nodded. _“It’s okay. Sorry I kinda overstepped some boundaries.”_

Tanger opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by Sid wandering over. It didn’t take either of the men long to notice the ring on his right hand.

“Nice bling, Cap.” Tanger raised his eyebrows. “Very nice.”

“Oh, um… thank you.” The compliment obviously ruined whatever momentum Sid had gained to talk to them, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “I need to talk to you guys.”

“Go for it.” Marc leaned back in his locker. His mind was wandering to the possibilities of why Sid was wearing a ring, although even he knew the answer, and it scared him.

Sid ran his hand through his hair, glancing around the room. “It’s… You can’t tell anyone.”

“We’re in a room full of people.” Kris smirked. “You have to tell everyone.”

“I don’t know if I should.”

Marc understood. The thought of standing up in front of his tired and slightly cranky teammates and announcing anything would be an immense effort. “Wait until after. They’ll listen better.”

“No, it’s not that… I just… it involves someone else.” Sid lowered his voice, unaware that Tanger had guessed about him and Geno being involved. The other man smiled more as he continued. “Maybe I shouldn’t.”

“I think you should.” Marc nodded, trying to instill some confidence. “We’re here for you.”

“Yes, do it.”

Sid’s thumb was toying at the ring, spinning it around nervously. “Maybe I’ll do it after. Thanks, guys.” With that, he walked away.

Marc and Tanger looked at each other, both shrugging at the same time.

Practice was slow. It gave Marc time to think about his own ring, which was both good and bad.

Timing was everything. He’d been attempting to pop the question numerous times since he’d had the ring forced on him, and each time the universe was against him. Or maybe he just wasn’t ready. Or he knew that she wasn’t ready.

He flicked his wrist absentmindedly in the air, stopping a shot from Kristen that should’ve gone in.

“Fuckface!” The loving remark that Marc had for all his teammates was hurled back at him with a beautiful smile and a tap of a stick.

“Just better than you, what can I say?” He smiled back. The butterflies returned full force as he watched her smile grow bigger while she skated away.

Timing. Like playing hockey. Except there was always a time for hockey, and seemingly never a time to propose to his gorgeous girlfriend.

0—0—0

Sid stayed on the ice after practice.

The weight of the ring felt weird in his glove, and he was holding back because of it. That’s why he kept fucking up his shots. Not because he was nervous.

Geno had made fun of him for wearing the ring. He had placed his on their bathroom counter, assuring the worried Sidney that it would be going on immediately after. He didn’t want to lose it.

Sid’s shot hit the post, bouncing into the air and landing gracefully on top of the net.

He wasn’t trying to avoid telling the team.

The next shot went wide, banging against the boards and echoing into the empty arena.

He was ready to tell someone. He was supposed to feel excited about getting engaged, people were supposed to be taking photos and popping champagne and crying of happiness. Instead, it had been marathon sex and a private celebration that he knew was going to end too soon.

Everything felt too bittersweet, too out of his control.

He thought back to his parents, the hugs and the laughs and the love, and how supported he’d felt. And the way Flower and Max had held him in their arms and tried to lift him up when he and Geno told them, and how Geno had cried on the car ride home because he never thought people could love him that much despite his ‘flaw.’

Sid shot the puck without thinking. He turned his back to the goal, for once not needing to know if it went in or not. People were going to know about his engagement, and that was all that mattered. Sidney Crosby was never one to quit.

0—0—0

“I’ve never been so happy to have an away game.” Kristen shoved a cookie into her mouth and leaned back in her chair. The café was busy, but most customers were ignoring the group sitting in the corner. “Plane ride, which means sleep, and no game tonight, which means sleep.”

Max, Tanger, and Sid and Geno were joining her and Marc at their favourite spot. They had somehow all fit into a tiny corner table, stealing chairs and apologizing frequently (well, Sid was) as they did so. It felt like the sun was already setting, the bright lights feeling even brighter than when they’d gotten there five minutes before.

“I had a Tinder match from Phoenix.” Max sipped his coffee as Sid rolled his eyes.

“That app doesn’t work. Too many people looking for hookups.”

“First of all, that’s what I want. Secondly, we’re not really looking for the same kind of people.” Max raised his eyebrows, and Kristen and Tanger had to hold back a snort.

“Look at you, ‘life’s so hard, everyone wants to fuck me because I’m Sidney Crosby.’” Marc imitated Sid’s whining.

Kristen rolled her eyes at the boys and turned her attention back to her second cookie. As she broke off a piece, she noticed Geno’s eyes glued to the table, rubbing his left fist gently.

“You okay?” She didn’t have to whisper as the boys’ conversation was continually getting louder.

Geno’s head shot up, his left hand immediately going under the table. “Yes. Sorry.”

“No, don’t be sorry.” She offered him a piece of her cookie, and he took it gratefully, glancing over at the other men.

“They too loud. Get us kicked out.”

Kristen shrugged. “They like me here. I’m sure it’ll be okay.” He was rubbing his hand again. “Did you pull something in practice?”

“Why you think that?” His voice sounded defensive, guilty.

She motioned to his hand, and he simply shook his head, pretending to be suddenly interested in what Max was saying.

“I just think they’re looser in Canada. Right?” Max held his hand towards Kristen.

“I haven’t noticed a difference.” She answered carefully, avoiding the smirks from her teammates.

“Judging from how fast her and Flower got together…” Tanger chimed in.

“Okay, that’s enough of that.” Sid ran his hands through his hair. “So, I’m planning a dinner when we get back. All of you and some of the other guys, if they want to come.”

“Sid, the perfect housewife.”

Geno chuckled.

“Anyway, it’s… kind of important. I’d love it if all of you could come.” Sid looked around the table.

The group all nodded, a little uncomfortable with the suddenly serious behaviour from their captain. Geno pulled out his phone and showed Kristen a video of someone making a cookie in the shape of a penguin.

“Is this one of those things where we have to bring our own food?”

Sid hesitated, glancing down at Geno. Kristen could see the look of uncertainty on his face.

“I’ll help you out with it, Sid. Don’t worry about it.” She spoke before she really understood what she was saying. Marc was slowly shaking his head. “We can figure out something easy to make.”

Sid gave her an appreciative smile. Maybe he would tell her what was up with Geno if she offered her knowledge of lasagna-making.

0—0—0

The quick practice in Ottawa was a nice break for Kristen, who needed the pressures of an impending game to push herself to her limits. Dan warned her not to go too hard, but she shrugged him off with a smile.

Geno sat beside her in video immediately. Which wasn’t necessarily a weird thing, but the speed in which he avoided Sid’s longing glance was surprising.

“Hey, G.” She couldn’t help but look at his left knuckle, which he was still massaging uncomfortably.

He nodded in response, giving her a quick smile before turning to the screen in front of them. Marc, who’d somehow squeezed into the chair on the other side of her before she could notice, gave her a questioning frown. She shrugged.

“You excited to see Karlsson again?” Marc leaned over her and tapped Geno on the knee. “I heard he misses you.”

“Hah. I’m miss him, too.” Geno sighed, the tension somehow broken with one question from his friend. Kristen would have to ask him how he did that. “Good guy.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever talked to him.” Kristen brought her legs up onto the chair, sitting cross-legged and leaning forward.

“He’ll talk to you tonight, for sure.” Marc smirked. “You think you have a thing for French accents, wait until you hear the beautiful Swedish—”

“Shut up.” Kristen playfully smacked him on the arm, making Geno laugh.

“You guys are cute.” He stopped rubbing his knuckle.

There was a ring. It was simple, nothing flashy, but still there and still insanely prominent. Kristen turned to Marc, raising her eyebrows. He nodded back.

She opened her mouth to ask about it, but Dan began talking about the Sens and the moment vanished. It was extremely hard to focus.

It could be nothing. So, it happened to be on his left hand, on his ring finger, so what? Maybe that was the only finger it fit on. Maybe it was a gift from his family.

Marc obviously noticed her thinking and leaned over slowly. “He has one, too.” He nodded towards Sid.

“Oh, my god.” It was the complete opposite of a whisper, and the room turned to look at her. Kristen awkwardly smiled. “Oh, that play. Just… it’s crazy.”

Max burst out laughing. Dan shook his head and continued.

“Oh, my god.” She whispered towards Marc. “Are you seri—”

Marc raised his finger to her lips, then turned her head towards the screen.

0—0—0

_“They’re getting married. They have to be.”_

Max shook his head. His focus was fully on his tie.

_“You don’t think so?”_ Marc was sitting on the edge of his bed, swinging his legs like a toddler.

_“When are you going to ask you-know-who about you-know-what?”_ Max gave up on the tie, letting it hang loosely around his neck. He sat down in a chair across from the bed. _“And will you-know-who say yes?”_

Marc blushed. It wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to ask. The idea of doing it in Ottawa, however… that wasn’t the dream. “I can’t do it now. Haven’t gotten the feeling, I guess.” He looked out the hotel window.

Max stood up again. “You’re nervous.”

_“Fuck, yeah.”_

“I would be, too.”

“Wow, that really helps.” Marc snorted. _“Can we just focus on the fact Sid and G are ENGAGED. Like, getting married?”_ He joined Max beside the mirror. “And they obviously don’t want anyone to know…”

_“Honestly, I just assumed they were already engaged. They’ve been together for years.”_

Kristen interrupted the conversation, her arms full of cans of ginger ale. Her outfit was probably not NHL-approved, a loose blazer and dress pants topped off with a hat. Marc could almost see Max’s concern over his tie fly out of the window.

“What?” She paused in the doorway, and Marc smiled before walking over to grab some cans.

“Did you have to take all of them?”

“Is that even a question?” Kristen stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Hi, by the way.”

Marc and Kristen had decided not to share a room on the road, considering they were together all the time, anyway, which meant Max was back with Marc and she had a room to herself. The club was probably afraid that if she shared a room with someone else they’d end up holding another press conference.

_“Bonjour mon petit soleil, comment était ta sieste?”_ He grabbed her by the waist, squeezing her tight.

“It was lovely, thanks.” She kissed his chin quickly before throwing the remaining ginger ale cans on the bed. “You get to keep these. My room’s stalked up.”

“Your French is doing great.” Max smirked at her.

“I know. Do you need me to do that?” She pointed to his tie, and he nodded eagerly. “So, we’re just going to not talk about Sid and G?”

“They don’t want to tell anyone.” Max’s shrug interrupted her tying, and she pretended to choke him. “I’m just saying, that’s probably what the dinner’s about.”

“Oh, true.”

“I think we should hint at it. Get them a present or something.”

“I do not support that idea.” Kristen shook her head at Marc. “Let’s just wait until we get back.”

“I saw some mugs at the gift shop for newly weds. We can get matching ‘hubby’ ones.” Max chuckled. “That’s my contribution to the dinner party.”

“God, no wonder no one else hangs out with us.” Kristen, finished with his tie, looked between the two men. “You guys are so mean.”

Their matching evil laughs made her roll her eyes.

0—0—0

Sid and Geno had a post-sex glow when they walked into the locker room. Kristen could tell the troublemakers were itching to chirp them about it.

The game was hard. It wasn’t that everybody didn’t play their best, they all definitely did, but the Sens seemed to be on a mission. A mission that the Pens couldn’t stop even if they wanted to.

She had accepted the loss by the middle of the third period. They were already down by three. She knew it was bad, but she also knew she’d beat herself up less if she was okay with it. Things would be okay. The Pens still had their playoff spot.

Kristen focused her energy on just playing her best.

Every tap on her shoulder propelled her off the bench and onto the ice with a force she hadn’t felt for awhile. Her and the boys were clicking better than they ever had, and, despite the score, were playing one of their best games.

And then it happened.

It seemed like nothing while it was happening. One of the Sens got pushed into the boards awkwardly by Geno, and Kristen hadn’t lifted her head in time. She was barrelling towards them too fast to stop or move around, so her first instinct was to jump. In her mind, she would be able to make it over the two men that had toppled over on the ice.

She didn’t feel her skate hit Karlsson. Even if she had, there wasn’t much she could do about it. It didn’t take long to realize the blood on the ice was coming from him, and fast, like a fucking waterfall from his neck, and she immediately panicked.

0—0—0

“And Stewart is visibly shaken heading back to the bench.”

“It looked like her skate just clipped him as she was trying to jump over… Oh god, that’s a terrible one.”

“She’s shaking her head at the trainer, she’s okay after that nasty spill in the corner. But she will be heading back to the locker room.”

0—0—0

“Please tell me he’s okay.”

Marc put his around Kristen. He wanted to tell her that it was okay, that he knew for sure that she hadn’t caused any harm, but he couldn’t. The sight had almost made him pass out, and he was anything but squeamish.

“They haven’t said anything yet.” Dan looked at his papers. “It feels inappropriate to talk about the game tonight, so all I’ll say for now is… great effort, guys. Play like that at home, and it’ll be a W for sure. That was Penguins hockey. I’ll see you guys on the bus.”

The talk was uncharacteristically short but given the storm cloud that was hanging above all of them, it was all they needed to hear.

Max had won the monthly symbol of appreciation previously, and wordlessly set the Steelers helmet down beside Kristen before heading over to his own locker.

Marc followed suit, peeling off his sweaty gear across the room from her. His brain was focused on how to make the night easier, if they should talk about it or simply let it be. Even though it wasn’t her fault, it would still be incredibly hard to know that you accidently harmed someone that way.

It seemed painfully silent until the team made it back to Pittsburgh, and it felt like an even longer drive back to their apartment. Kristen had motioned for him to hand her the keys and had driven the long way home with the radio off and her window all the way down. In any other circumstance he would’ve teased her about how cold she must’ve been, but he kept his mouth shut and his eyes straight ahead.

They were laying in bed, her curled up beside him and the TV quietly playing Friends in the background, when she finally said something.

“What was the best day of your life? And you can’t say getting drafted.”

Marc smiled to himself. “Seeing you in the locker room for the first time. How awkward you were when we talked.”

“That doesn’t count.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “Like, something from your childhood or something.”

He tried his best to think long and hard, but there was no competing with any of the days he’d spent with Kristen. “Or when I came home from that loss, and you had put all the lights up, and it felt like our home. I always beat myself up, you know that, and that was one of the first times I let it just roll off my back. I really wish I could pick something else just for you,” he rubbed her arm, _“mais tout est pâle en comparaison de toi, mon petit soleil. Tout ce que vous faites me rend l'homme le plus heureux de tous._ However, there was a really good day when I was a kid… we got a dog. It was a pretty cool dog.” He added the last part when he realized she was looking at him.

“Unfair. Half of that was in French.” She was finally starting to sound like her normal self. “Even if it was sexy as hell.”

“What, the dog part?”

She slapped his arm. “Way to ruin it.”

He chuckled. “As if dad jokes have ever turned you off.”

“You have me mistaken for Max.”

Marc rolled over so that he was facing her. “What about you?”

“My favourite day?” She continued after he nodded. “Wow… Um, I guess when I got back home from rehab.”

He snorted.

“I know, that sounds fucked up. But it was like, nothing made sense until I was back home. There was this route I used to take to get to practices, I remembered all of it. I still had my bags with me, but I drove straight to the rink and these kids were playing a game, and I just stood there overwhelmed with emotions because they were just having fun. No one was screaming at them from the stands, well, a lot less than the NHL, and they were all smiling. I used to be like that while I was playing, you know? Like you, I guess. I was smiling constantly, I fucking loved it. I was just doing it to have fun. And then life caught up with me and I let it all slip away, and I stopped having fun. But I started smiling when I was watching them, for the first time in months, a real smile. And I got home, and I started fucking bawling.”

“This doesn’t sound like a great day.”

“But it was! I finally let it all go. Like a rebirth, I guess. It let me get back to what really mattered. Family, my health, hockey. All the things I promised I’d never give up the first time.”

Marc reached out to wipe a tear from her cheekbone. “And you got a second chance.”

“I did. At all of it.” She smiled. “To top it all off, I happened to meet the love of my life.”

“Max?”

“How’d you know?” She giggled, kissing his forehead. “Thank you.”

Marc rolled onto his back, pulling her onto his chest. “Anything for you. I love you.”


	19. Everlong

“Okay, but who has the bigger ass, Sid or Geno?”

“Is this really how you’re greeting me?”

“Of course.”

Max squinted at the couple as he lifted weights. Kristen shook her head at him, continuing with her stretches.

“Sid’s ass is legendary.”

“See, that’s the thing. We need to measure them.”

It was the only way he knew how to make her feel better. Humour once again would save the day.

Kristen slowly got up, still favouring her knee. “Battle of the Asses.”

“Is your knee okay?” Max knew it was a dumb question as soon as he opened his mouth, and the look she gave him proved it. She’d told him before she’d landed weird after the Ottawa game. “I mean, you’re getting it looked at?”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. Really. I’m not the one that got my throat slashed.”

“That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t take care of yourself.”

She rolled her eyes. “Since when did you become my father?”

He was about to answer when Marc walked in, interrupting the moment with a quick hug and kiss as he made his way to the treadmill. Max couldn’t help but notice the look in Kristen’s eyes, full of love and excitement, and immediately started wondering if Marc had popped the question. Not that there was a way to casually bring it up in conversation. Besides, they would’ve told him. Maybe.

“You excited for dinner?” Kristen turned back to him.

“I’m excited to eat. Majority of us already know the ‘big secret.’” He looked back at Sid and Geno, then to her. “I mean… you know, it’s a big night and everything. I heard a couple of the other guys are coming, they don’t know yet.”

Kristen reached for the weights, then stopped to turn her head at Max. “Are you really looking at my ass right now?”

“What? It’s for research.”

0—0—0

It was just a dinner. He had to keep reminding himself that.

Geno was with Kristen and Flower, starting on the food prep, and Sid couldn’t get himself off the side of his bed and into the kitchen. The ring on his finger might as well have been a weight holding him in place.

Things had been normal that morning, a quick skate and a casual workout followed by a minor panic attack while food shopping that Kristen helped him with. He was sure she suspected something, but she avoided the topic for his benefit.

He longed to be out on the ice again, unbothered by the stress of his personal life biting him in the ass. It was much easier to focus on what was in front of him.

But, that was the point. What was in front of him was the rest of his life, a life that he wanted to be happy and secret-free. That would never happen without telling his friends everything.

A sharp knock on the door interrupted his inner-monologue.

“Hey, we’re almost ready. Everyone’s here.” Kristen poked her head into the room. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.” Sid stood up, almost falling over thanks to his foot falling asleep from his awkward position. “Sorry, I’ll be right down.”

“It’s no rush.” She gave him a gentle smile. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She knew. She had to know.

But that wasn’t technically a bad thing.

He let himself relax slightly, walking to the door and taking a deep breath. “Would you mind walking down with me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

They walked down the stairs, Kristen’s hand firmly placed on the small of his back, and it wasn’t the first time he felt like he was going to battle. However, this time was a little different.

The quiet mummer at the dinner table made his ears ring. Or maybe it was the glass of wine that he’d already downed. Either way, it was almost unbearable, and he almost ran outside with Kristen when she went for her smoke. Everyone was enjoying themselves, unaware of the monumental thing that was about to happen.

He and Geno had sat down and chosen the best time to say something. After dinner, in the living room, they would stand in front of the TV and say what they needed to say, then hold hands. It would be perfect, quick, painless. In their wildest dreams, every guy would be okay with it. In reality, it would be nice if at least half of them could live with the idea.

Geno was anxious for dinner to be over, he could tell. Sid was feeling the opposite emotion.

“I’ve eaten a lot of pasta in my day, and I gotta say… superb.” Justin raised his glass toward Sid, who happily responded by pouring himself some more wine and clinking with him.

Cookie and Duper nodded their heads in agreement. Geno looked outside almost painfully, waiting for Kristen to come back in so they could move to the living room.

“So, what’s the reason for all this?” Rusty had had more wine than even Sid and was looking a little flushed as he excitedly smiled at his captain.

“I, um…” Sid looked to Geno for a good reason, but he was still busy looking out the back door. “You’ll see.” It was all he could manage.

The ten-minute wait felt like an eternity, and when Kristen finally strolled back into the kitchen Sid started herding the guys into the living room. They all bustled into the room, and a race for the couches and chairs ensued. Kristen happily sat on the floor, leaning against Marc’s legs, and Schultzy joined her.

Sid hadn’t realized how much of the team had actually showed up. His stomach turned as he stood in front of them. The only thing that steadied him was the knowledge that Geno was beside him, and if he decided to pass out the taller man would probably catch him.

“So, what’s up?” Cookie spoke up, and Sid blushed when he realized he’d been staring at the group for an awkward amount of time.

“Well…” Sid inhaled deeply, trying to get as much oxygen as he could before spewing out his speech. He was thankful for the piece of paper in his pocket outlining everything but decided to try his best without it. “I have something to tell you guys. Well, we have something to tell you.” He motioned to Geno, who simply nodded.

“Well, tell us!” Justin leaned forward.

“Is serious.” Geno looked at his feet.

“Basically, we know that some of you know this already, but we wanted to officially let all of you know—”

“You’re leaving?” Rusty had somehow acquired even more wine and was past the flush point and onto the interrupting phase. “Oh, God, which one of you is leaving?”

“No one leaving Rusty. Is fine.”

“Geno’s right, this isn’t anything like that. It’s, well… I’ve been playing here for a long time. Most of my life, at this point. And I’ve been so lucky to have an amazing linemate and friend join me for this ride. So lucky to have you guys around me every day. That’s what tonight is about, being truthful with my teammates, my brothers and sister, my friends.”

“We have secret.”

Sid felt lightheaded. “Wow, this is harder than I thought.” The group chuckled, but he was sure he was going to fall over.

Geno grabbed his hand quickly, before anyone could say anything else, and the room went silent. Proud looks from Marc and Max were what kept Sid standing up.

“Me and G… we’ve been seeing each other. For awhile now. And we figured it’s about time we be honest with ourselves.”

“Actually?”

“Yeah, Schultzy. Actually.”

“Wait, how long has this been happening?” Duper frowned. “Long enough that we probably should’ve noticed?”

“Yes.” Geno answered, smirking. “Was most obvious.”

Sid was shocked, in a good way. The response was normal for the situation, as if they weren’t coming out so much as just telling a group of people they were dating. “A couple years. More or less.”

The group nodded and looked at each other, each with a smile on their faces. Now was the time.

“That’s not all.”

“This is a lot of information at once.”

“We engaged.”

That was when the silence happened. Kristen looked to Marc, Marc looked to Max. The other men all stared at Sid and Geno in varying stages of confusion and joy.

“I knew it!” Kristen jumped up from the floor and ran straight toward the couple. “You guys! Holy shit!”

“Wait, okay, so you’ve been dating and are ENGAGED and none of us guessed anything?” Justin frowned. “And we also never guessed about Flower and Stew—”

“I told you not to call me that.”

“Some of us knew.” Max looked at Duper and Marc.

“And you decided not to tell me?”

“Don’t take it personally, kid.” Duper patted his head before smiling at the couple. “Congrats, guys. That’s amazing."

“Yes, amazing!” Kristen kissed both of their cheeks. “I might cry.”

“Don’t. I start if you start.” Geno held her close before motioning for more of the guys to come up. “Congratulate us, assholes.”

0—0—0

“I told you guys.” Kristen turned to look at the happy couple, who were holding hands above the table. “I totally called it.”

“We told you they were together from the beginning.” Max pointed his glass toward her. “Without us, you would’ve lead such a sheltered life.”

“You’re drunk.” Sid rolled his eyes at Max. Kristen snorted, since Sid was probably just as tipsy. “I feel like I should care more that you told someone our secret.”

Kristen shrugged. Most of the guys had gone home, leaving the usual group to circle around the table. She was beyond happy for the couple, especially given how positive the response was from their teammates.

“So, when’s the date?” Marc put his arm around Kristen’s chair, pulling her closer.

Sid and Geno looked at each other. “We hadn’t really thought of that.” Sid admitted.

“Lot of worry about team. I’m not think about date.” Geno smiled sheepishly. “Lot to think about.”

“Hey, it’s no rush.” Kristen piped up before Max could get a joke in. “You guys have gone through a lot. Believe me, I get it.” She looked at Marc and smiled.

“There’s more to come.” Sid sighed. “We still have to tell Dan and Mario. And Jen. And somehow decide if we want to come forward to the league about all of this. You know, Russia’s not very… inclusive.”

Geno flinched slightly at the mention of his home. Kristen looked at the table. It was rare that Sid let down his walls to become so personal, and the group was calculated with their response.

“Like Stew says, there’s no rush. You know that none of us are going to tell anyone.” Tanger smiled kindly.

“You do want to come out, though, right?” Max looked around the table. “I mean, fuck what everyone else thinks. If Stew and Flower can tell everyone and have it be okay, you should, too.”

“It’s a little different, Max.” Marc gave him a warning look. “There’s more to think about.”

“Honestly, fuck Russia, man.”

Geno cringed again. Kristen could feel his anger from across the table.

“Max, _arrête de le faire.”_

“What? It’s true. Such a shit place to live.”

Geno let go of Sid’s hand and pushed his chair back, not making eye contact as he walked out of the room. Marc smacked Max’s arm, and Tanger immediately put his arm on Sid’s shoulder before he could follow the other man.

“Kristen.” Tanger nodded toward the door. “You.”

She walked out the front door, closing it quietly behind her. Geno was sitting on the front steps, his head in his hands.

“G?”

He grunted a response in Russian, which she took as an invitation to sit down.

“Fuck what Max was saying. He meant well, it just… came out wrong. He’s had too much.” She didn’t know if the excuses were helping but kept going. “You know he’s just saying that because he wants you to be happy.”

Geno looked up, squinting at the sky.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

He sighed. “Feel so hard for us to be in love with each other. Like, world…”

“Like the world’s against you?”

“Yeah.”

Kristen kept her eyes focused on the streetlamp in front of them. She didn’t have a response. She would never have the words to respond to that.

“I say goodbye to home. All I’m know. Family. For one man.” Geno wiped his eyes aggressively, as if he was mad at them for showing any sort of emotion. “I’m try so hard not to love him. I’m know is wrong, but it,” he waved at the sky, motioning to the universe, “not let me.”

“It’s not wrong for you to be in love.” She grabbed his hand, stopping him from abusing his tear ducts more than he had already. Her free hand wiped a tear from his cheek gently. “Can I tell you something?”

He nodded.

“I kept myself away from love for so fucking long. I refused to admit to myself that I could be in love with a woman as much as a man, and as much as I tried to ignore it, I just couldn’t. Eventually I realized that it didn’t matter about gender, or appearance, or anything like that. What mattered was how they made me feel. Sure, I fell in love with a man, and that’s made it easier for me in certain ways. But even then, I tried my best to deny that I loved him, because I was afraid of what it might do to my career. And I was right, it ruined me, but not because of his gender, it was who he was as a person. That proved to me that love truly is blind, as cheesy as it is. All that matters is who they are as a person. Sid is an amazing guy, he loves you so fucking much, and I know he would do anything for you. Just as you would do anything for him. That’s what matters. Not what other people say is wrong or right, or what your country thinks is inhuman. Now, you wear that ring with pride, you hold his hand with pride, and allow yourself to be happy with someone who loves you.”

Geno looked at her for awhile, then down at their hands. “You love him?”

“Of course, I do. Marc is… he’s my Sid.” She smiled at him. “He’s everything I’ve ever wanted.”

He nodded, then pulled her close in an awkward half hug. Kristen rested her head on his shoulder. They sat for awhile, just watching the sky as it slowly turned dark.

When the first star appeared, Geno pulled away to hold her face in his hands.

“Thank you.”

0—0—0

“He’s scared.” Marc didn’t phrase it as a question as they got into the car. “He doesn’t want to tell anyone else.”

“Correct.” Kristen looked out the window. “And he doesn’t want to tell Sid that he doesn’t want to tell anyone else.”

“Shit.”

“He broke my fucking heart tonight, Marc. I’ve never seen him like that.”

Marc reached over from his place in the driver’s seat, grabbing her hand while he drove.

“I want to help them.”

“I know. So, do I.” He glanced over. “There’s not much we can do, though. If he’s not ready…”

Kristen shrugged, squeezing his hand. “I’m happy that this is going well.”

“What? Sid and G?”

“No, no. Us. I know our problems aren’t like theirs, I just… I guess it made me realize how lucky we are.”

Marc grinned. “Yeah, we are.”

He wanted to keep listening to her talk, but his mind was floating back to the ring in his bedside drawer, about timing. Who gave a shit if it was too soon, he wanted to make her his forever.

Optimistic about timing, Marc couldn’t wait to get the door open as they neared the apartment. He rushed Kristen inside, using the excuse that he had to pee to buy him some time to grab the ring. She laughed at him from the living room.

He opened the box slowly, as if it would jump out of his hands if he went too fast. The drawer looked empty in front of him. His heart was beating faster than it had in any hockey game.

She was sitting on the couch, blissfully unaware of the change that was potentially about to happen.

“Good pee?” She didn’t look away from the TV. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Marc looked around the room, the fairy lights and candles had already been turned on. He caught a glimpse of her phone on the kitchen counter beside their Bluetooth speaker. Too cheesy? Sure. Good memory? Of course. “Hey, would you maybe want to—”

“I’m really too exhausted.” Kristen looked over her shoulder at him. “Not that I don’t enjoy doing that with you.”

“No, I, um… do you want to dance?”

She snorted, then paused as she realized he was serious. “Dance? Why dance?”

He tried his best to shrug nonchalantly, but he felt like he looked rigid and nervous.

“I mean… yeah, why not?” Kristen got up, wandering over to her phone. “What kind of dance are we doing?”

“Probably not a good one, that’s for sure.”

She laughed, choosing a slow song and walking up to him. “This work?”

In all honesty, he couldn’t care less what song she chose, but he nodded enthusiastically. He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him and resting his chin on her head. “You look so beautiful.”

“I look the same as I always do.” Kristen scoffed. She leaned closer to his chest.

“You always look beautiful. _So fucking beautiful.”_

They swayed to the song, offbeat but both smiling. He took a deep breath, causing her to look up.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just so happy.” He pulled away a bit to look down at her. His knees were weak, and it took all his strength not to pull out of the whole idea and mention watching a movie. “I know I’ve said it before, but I’m so happy with you.”

“I am too, I really am.” Kristen kissed his chin.

He had to do it right then and there. It would never happen if he didn’t. “I have something to tell you.”

She frowned and stopped swaying, nodding. “Yeah?”

Another deep breath. “It’s probably too much, but I feel like this was meant to happen, us meeting and all that. You look at me and I feel like I’ve known you for years.” He stepped away. “This is crazy, but we’re both crazy, so maybe it’s perfect.”

He could tell from her face that she had no idea what was about to happen. Expecting something, but not what he was about to do.

Slowly, he kneeled down and pulled the box from his pocket. “Kristen—”

“Oh.” She raised her hands to her face.

“Kristen, I’m in love with you. No matter what I do, you’re always in my mind. You’re my world now, _mon petit soleil._ I want you to be my sun forever.”

The music was the only noise in the apartment, paired with the shocked look on Kristen’s face and Marc’s heartbeat in his ears it felt like a movie.

“Oh, my God.” She lowered her hand from her mouth slowly. Her eyes were tearing up. “Marc… Holy shit.”

He stayed in his position awkwardly, arm outstretched and knee digging into the hardwood floor. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if that’s an answer or not.”

Kristen looked straight into his eyes. “I… can’t believe this is happening.”

“Is that—”

“Yes! Fuck, sorry, I forgot to answer!” She laughed, and the tears started falling. “I can’t believe I screwed that up. I answered in my head, I swear.”

He knew she would keep talking if he didn’t do something, so he got up and motioned for her to give him her hand. The ring fit perfectly (how Max had known her ring size, he would never know) and the look on her face told him she thought it was perfect.

“I love you.” She held his face between her hands. “I love you so goddamn much.”

With that, he lifted her up and brought her to the couch. His mind wasn’t on watching a movie anymore.

0—0—0

Sid received a text from Max the following morning, right before his alarm. Normally, that wouldn’t have bothered him, if anything, he would’ve been happy for the extra ten minutes to prepare for practice, but that wasn’t the case that morning.

Geno’s arm was heavy around his hips, and his breath warmed Sid’s neck in all the right ways. He wanted to stay there forever.

Sighing, he grabbed his phone from where it was charging on the nightstand.

**Really sorry about last night, man. Obviously drank a lil too much. I only said that shit because I love you guys and want g to be happy.**

Sid rolled over slowly to look at Geno’s sleeping face. He had been emotional the night before but had refused to talk about it with him. He knew the other man needed space, time to fully wrap his brain around all the events of the past couple of days.

**Don’t worry about it talbo. Just give him some space today, it’ll be okay :)**

Another sigh, and Sid was on his feet, wandering half asleep to the bathroom.

His reflection looked different. He was engaged. Did that usually affect someone’s appearance? If anything, he was sure he was supposed to look lighter, more relaxed and happier, but instead he just looked tired. The engagement had caused him to spend the majority of his nights thinking about how to tell this person and that person, the public and his parents. And his stress for Geno wasn’t helping, either.

He splashed his face with water, stripped down to nothing, looked in the mirror again. There were bruises on his hips from where G had grabbed on to him the night before, hickeys leading down his chest and ending right below his belly button. They were going to get chirped all morning, especially given Geno’s matching hickeys.

The marks of love made Sid smile. They hadn’t been able to do anything like that before coming out to the team, although he still got away with giving his boyfriend the occasional hickey if Geno was up to lying about a conquest.

The ring stood out against his bare body, bringing him confidence. A reminder that he was loved just the way he was. Things would be okay.

“You just stare or want shower?”

He jumped at the voice from beside him, instinctively covering himself. Geno stood at the door with a sleepy grin on his face.

“Look great, Sid. So handsome.”

“Have I really been standing here for awhile?”

Geno shrugged in response, stripping down as well and wrapping his arms around the other man from behind. He rested his chin on Sid’s shoulder. “Not know.”

Sid felt a sense of relief that G was acting normal, at least normal for him. “I was just getting dressed. You can shower, if you want.”

“I’m think you join. Have fun.” He squeezed Sid’s hips, bringing a surge of pain when he hit the bruises. He hated to admit that it turned him on. “Make more marks.”

“I don’t want to be late.” Sid turned around to kiss him before picking up his clothes from the floor. “Maybe after?”

Geno nodded his head in defeat, his long stride bringing him to the shower before Sid could even finish grabbing his clothes. He immediately started humming some pop song that Sid would never know.

Sid’s mind was on how to tell Mario for the whole drive to the rink, and then on how to tell the world during practice. Geno was his normal joking self the whole time, which brought him some sense of relief, but the anxiety was even more present when practice was finished.

“Why late for practice? Worse than me.” Geno was elbowing Marc’s arm as they got changed. “Stew, too.”

“We do live together, you know.” Kristen’s voice was calm, but there was a blush on her face that said more. “He’s late, I’m late.”

“You do own two cars.” Justin piped up.

“I had to finish a TV show. We were late by five minutes.”

“That’s five minutes you’ll never get back!”

“I’ll work out extra hard, just for you, Schultzy. Thank you for all the concern.” She rolled her eyes, smiling.

Sid looked away from the smiling faces, choosing to focus his energy on walking to Mario’s office. He envisioned opening the door, plastering a confident smile on his face, and just spurting it out as if it was nothing. He would show the other man his plan for telling the public and reporters, assure him that it wouldn’t affect either of their games, and that would be it. Like coming out to his parents, except more professional.

Simple. Easy.

0—0—0  


Max wandered over to Marc’s stall as the room started clearing out, making sure that Kristen had went off for her warmup before sitting down beside him.

_“You did it, didn’t you?”_

_“Did what?”_ Marc toyed with the strings on his hoodie. He had been trying his best to hide his happiness, which obviously wasn’t going well.

_“You know.”_ Max motioned to his finger. _“You did it?”_

_“I’m not sure. I wouldn’t tell you anyway, though.”_ Marc grinned, and Max jumped onto his feet.

“FLOWER! Tell me everything, you fucker!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Max shoved his shoulder, following him out the door and into the workout area. The room was surprisingly full after such a hard practice, but Marc was grateful. The less interrogating, the better. Kristen wasn’t sure if she wanted to tell people since it was still so fresh, and Marc agreed. The worst thing would be for something to happen…

No. He couldn’t think like that.

Kristen was beyond happy. Honestly, so was he. He never thought it could be so easy to get the love of his life to be the love of his life, well, for life. Or that someone would ever agree to doing that with him.

_“So, you were late because—”_

“Yes. Yes, Max.” Marc turned to his friend, putting his hands on his shoulders. _“Please, for the love of God, don’t tell anyone. I really mean it.”_

_“Shouldn’t you guys be celebrating? Did you tell your parents?”_

_“Tell your parents what?”_ Tanger strolled by, pausing when he heard the conversation.

“Nothing.” Marc pointed his finger at Max. “I mean it.”

Max raised his arms in surrender, shaking his head at Tanger. _“Apparently, it’s nothing.”_

0—0—0  


“You can tell me anything. You know that.”

Sid looked up from his hands to Mario’s concerned gaze. “I know.”

“So, what’s up?”

The office felt strangely cold, and Sid longed to be working out with everyone else instead of feeling like he was in a principal’s office.

“This… is going to be a lot to hear.”

“I’ll try to keep up.” Mario smiled.

Sid looked down at his paper, once again feeling like his once-adequate plan was now severely inadequate. “Well, remember what I told you after I moved here? That… big thing?”

“Of course.”

“And you told me the only rule was to never date a hockey player?”

Mario raised his eyebrows, leaning back in his chair. “I do remember that.”

“Well, I… fucked up.” Sid folded his paper back up and sighed. “And it gets worse.”

“You and Geno, hey?”

“I, um, what?” Sid paused, frowning. “How did you… I mean, we…”

“It was a little obvious, Sidney.” Mario smirked. “No matter how good you were at hiding it. I knew it the minute you two met. I’m surprised it took you this long.”

“So, you’re not… mad? Upset? Going to strip me of the C?”

“No, no, no. Of course, not.” Mario reached out to place his hand on top of Sid’s. “I was actually planning for this for awhile. It’s definitely not the… best… timing, considering Kristen and Marc-Andre, but it will never be the right time for something hard.”

“There’s more.” He blushed. “We, uh…” Slowly, he lifted his left hand. “This happened.”

Mario paused, looking between the ring and Sid’s face, then immediately punched in Jen’s extension.

0—0—0  


Kristen couldn’t stop staring at the ring. No matter how hard she tried, even when she had to take it off for games and practices, even on the road when she locked it in the safe, her mind was constantly on the fact that she was engaged. Her and Marc were engaged.

She didn’t want to tell anyone. Marc had mentioned that Max might know, but he had promised not to tell anyone. The only people she wanted to tell were Sid and Geno, since they would understand the difficult situation.

It wasn’t that she wasn’t proud of their relationship, or comfortable with where they were. She’d watched relationships crumble at even their best moments, and the fear would always be in the back of her mind. Watching her parents divorce had fucked her up more than she realized.

“What are you thinking, _mon amour?”_

Kristen realized she had been staring at Marc across the kitchen table for longer than normal, and quickly looked away. “Nothing.”

“That’s a lie.” He smirked. “You really like it?”

She glanced at the ring. “Of course, I do. Not that you picked it out.” She smiled. “But yes. I’m very happy.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“The wedding?” Kristen paused. Should she be thinking about that already? “It’s only been a week.”

“I’ve been told people like to think ahead.” Marc blushed.

“So, you’ve thought about it?”

He shrugged. “Maybe a bit.”

She felt a surge of panic, sipping her ginger ale to try and stop the anxiety from making its way up her throat. “Obviously I’m not a very good bride-to-be.” Her voice sounded shakier than she intended.

“Oh. Oh, no, I didn’t mean it like that.” Marc got up from his seat, making his way around the table to kiss her forehead. “I was just curious. _Pas de soucis, mon petit soleil. Vous ferez la mariée parfaite.”_

It was a passing comment, she knew that, but it bugged her for the rest of the day. She was supposed to be planning already, right? It was the normal thing to do. Especially if Marc was.

The thoughts whizzing through her head distracted her during video and practice, and almost caused an accident on her drive home from the arena. It kept her quiet during a dinner with their crew. Any sense of post-engagement bliss had somehow flown out the window with her barely noticing.

0—0—0  


“She has that angsty look again."

_“You would know.”_

_“Fuck off.”_

“No, Tanger’s right. Something’s up.”

“But what, though?"

“Can we stop for, like, three seconds?” Max stopped walking, causing the line of guys behind him to run into his back. “It’s probably nothing.”

Some of the team had decided to go for a very chilly walk downtown as a ‘bonding exercise.’ In reality, they all wanted to get out of the rink for a bit. Practices and workouts were longer, and video had become too much thinking. Mindless walking seemed like a good idea at the time.

“Forget Stew, what’s wrong with you?” Justin put his arm around Max’s shoulders. “Open up. Tell us.”

_“Foutre le camp,_ kiddo.” Max tried his best to smirk. “I just don’t think we should assume anything.” He glanced ahead to where Kristen and Marc were throwing snowballs at each other, the picture-perfect romance. They were giving him hope for his own future, he didn’t want to think about them not working out.

Justin rolled his eyes and looked back at the rest of the group. “You’re boring. Any updates on Sid and G?”

“They’re doing great, thanks.” Sid strolled by, smirking. He turned his attention to Kristen and Flower. “Hey, if you guys fall and hurt yourselves I swear to God…”

“Thanks, Dad! We’ll keep that in mind!” Kristen stuck her tongue out at him as she continued to dance circles around her boyfriend.

Fiancé. Max smiled.

The rest of the boys decided to join in on the snowball fight, leaving Sid, Tanger, and Max to watch. Max shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, inhaling and exhaling a lungful of cold air.

“For real. You okay?” Tanger didn’t look at him, but Max knew who the question was directed to.

“I think so.” In all honesty, the last person he wanted to discuss his loneliness problems with was Kris Letang, King of Stealing Your Girl. “Just… tired. Longest time of the year or something.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s in the summer.”

“Sid, you’re more fatherly than usual.” Max leaned forward to look at Sid, who was on the opposite side of Tanger. “Mind telling us what’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, just been planning out how to potentially ruin my future career. The usual.” The captain turned to Kris. “And you?”

“What do you mean?” He frowned.

“There’s always something wrong with you.” Sid’s shit-eating grin mirrored Max’s.

“Catherine wants to have a baby. We’ve been together for, what, a couple months? Not even? Sorry, Max.”

“It’s okay. We all know I’m going to be alone the rest of my life.”

The three stood in silence, listening to the laughs and chirps from their teammates.

“When did we become cranky old men?” Max looked at his friends. “We’re fucking hockey players, for fuck’s sake. We have nothing to complain about. If I really wanted to, I could go get laid right now. Sid, nothing will ever ruin your career. Tanger… I don’t have a solution for you, but you have that brooding French guy thing working in your favour, you’ll be fine.” He turned back to the snowball game. “Our lives are great.”

They continued to stand in silence, like the cranky old men they truly were on the inside. And Max was fine with that.

Sid ducked a snowball that came toward him, definitely from Geno.

0—0—0  


She had spent most of the night in the box. Not that Marc was counting, she could do whatever she wanted, but he could tell Dan was not impressed. Something was wrong with her, and she was taking stupid penalties for it.

“Did you fucking hear what he said to me?” She pointed her finger at the ref. “Did you?”

The man ignored her, closing the door as she continued talking.

Marc turned back to the game, shaking his shoulders out while he watched Schultzy chip the puck into the Sharks’ end.

Time went by quickly, an equal amount of shots on both goals, before Kristen’s penalty was over. He noticed the goalie pound his stick as she exited the box, making a beeline toward the puck that had been lazily struck to the center of the ice. The defence was changing lines, impressively slow at getting men out, and the opportunity for a breakaway was perfect. But, at the last second, Burns barreled toward her, knocking her against the boards in his zone and sending her to the ground.

Marc moved forward a bit, anxious to see if there was any damage. Brent apparently felt the same way, as he immediately stopped and looked down at her. The ref blew the whistle.

“You’re okay.” Marc wasn’t sure why he said it, he knew she had taken harder hits from shockingly bigger guys. “Come on, get up.”

“Fuck, seriously, man?” Her comment could be heard even from across the ice, making him chuckle.

Brent patted her shoulder, telling her something that made her smile. Marc’s anxiety ceased enough for him to take a breath.

He didn’t know why he was so worried. Even in practices, he felt surge of protectiveness over her. He knew no one would try to harm her on the team, but there were still times when a hit seemed too hard, or a chirp too aggressive. It was probably the fact they were entering a new part of their relationship, but it scared him. They had promised not to let their relationship affect their game, and the last thing he’d wanted since it began was to hold her back because he knew what could happen.

She was favouring her knee again. It wasn’t enough to keep her from joking with Max when she got to the bench, jumping around a bit before sitting down, but it was enough for him to shoot a warning glance at Brent the next time he was in their end. The other man nodded his head, not needing to discuss it. It was common knowledge after the first Vancouver game that if you fucked with Kristen, you had to deal with the wrath of the whole team, including their goalie.

After a loss in OT, the group silently said goodnight before heading off to their cars. Marc and Kristen didn’t hang around, choosing to give a quick wave before jumping in the Tesla.

“Brent congratulated us.” Kristen said as she started the car.

“What do you mean? I thought you didn’t tell anyone?”

“No, no.” She smiled at him. “Nice to know where you’re at when it comes to that, though. Just about coming out to the public.”

Marc nodded, looking out the window. “Not the best hit on you.”

“It was an accident. He was cool about it.”

“Your knee?”

She sighed. “It’s a bit fucked up. Fine, though. I talked to the dude during intermission, nothing crazy. They want me to wear a brace when I work out. Geno knows a guy.”

The drive was mostly silent, the two holding hands. Eventually, she sighed again.

“What?”

The streetlights reflected on her face in a beautiful way, like shooting stars dancing across her cheeks. “Do you ever think about… after?”

Still mesmerized by her, it took Marc a minute to figure out what she meant. “Like, when we retire?”

“Yeah.” Kristen glanced at him quickly. “Do you ever wonder how it’ll go? Injury, age, all that?”

“I guess. I always figured it would be an age thing for me.”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“Oh, I just…” She swore as a car cut them off. “Sorry. I don’t know, I just haven’t really thought about it before. To be honest, there was awhile where I thought I’d be dead before I’d have to think about that. Tonight, it just got me thinking, for some reason.”

“What do you think is going to happen?”

Kristen squeezed his hand. “My body. 100 percent. I won’t be able to take hits like that for twelve years, that’s for sure. And, you know…”

He frowned. “No, I don’t know.”

“Kids, I guess.” She cleared her throat, a blush making its way up her face. “I can’t have kids while I’m playing. Someone will have to stay home with them. They can’t have two parents in the NHL, I’m pretty sure that’s child abuse.”

“I guess the league hasn’t really thought of maternity leave before.”

“Marc.” She elbowed him, finally giving him a good look as they pulled into the parking space. “I was trying to be cute.”

It suddenly hit him, everything she’d mentioned. The mixture of butterflies and pure nervous energy made him want to jump around and pass out at the same time. “You… think about having kids with me?”

“I thought about it. Tonight. I don’t sit there fantasizing while you’re asleep or anything.”

“There would be nothing wrong with that.” He leaned over, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose and leaning his forehead against hers. The position was slightly awkward in the car, but it was all he could do to let her know how happy he was that she’d said that.

“Really?” She pulled away, raising her eyebrows.

“Should we go make one right now?”

“Marc!”

Another playful smack to his arm, followed by a playful smack to her ass as they walked to their apartment.

0—0—0  


Sid and Geno sat on two stools, the studio lights blinding both of them. The rest of the dressing room was dark.

“Is this really happening?”

Geno shrugged nonchalantly.

“How are you so calm about this?”

“Probably not ask. We only tell Jen and Mario.” He gave a Sid a comforting look. “Is okay.”

“People find this stuff out all the time.”

He rolled his eyes as Sid twiddled his thumbs. He was the worrier of the two, he always had been. It was Geno’s job to make sure he didn’t have a mental breakdown whenever his personal life was brought up.

There was a part of Geno that wanted them to ask that fateful question, to just get things out in the open. Like a band aid, they always said. Quick.

Sid had been coming up with multiple scenarios as to why people would know about them all night. And all through breakfast. One of Geno’s favourites was the scenario where someone hacked his phone and posted photos of their nudes onto Instagram.

“Flower and Tanger come soon. Is about them, too.”

The four of them were doing a promotional interview for their work with local charities. It would be simple, but Sid was in conspiracy theory mode.

“What if they just want their reaction? Some drama?”

“That dramatic how?”

“I…” Sid stopped, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m nervous.”

“Oh, I’m not notice.” Geno smirked.

“Nervous why?”

Sid turned to the door. Tanger and Flower walked in, also in their casual Pens’ clothes, and Kristen stayed at the door, frowning at Sid after asking the question.

“Hey.” He avoided the question, choosing to wave at the trio. “Is everyone here?”

“Talbo is hiding somewhere. Some other guys are working out.” Tanger stood beside Geno. “This is my spot?”

“Why? I smell?”

“It’ll be okay, Sid. Have fun, guys.” Kristen smiled at the group and skipped off.

Flower looked down at Sid, raising his eyebrows. “You’re nervous?”

“He think they ask about…” Geno waved his finger between them.

“Oh, dude. Why would they?” Tanger smiled. “Nothing they know.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

Eventually, the interview began. It was simple, to-the-point questions that centered around easy topics. Sid allowed his shoulders to relax, the muscles in his neck finding relief. Flower happily discussed his contribution to a local rec center, and Tanger talked about his anti-bullying work with an elementary school. Sid awaited the attention to turn to him, not that he needed it to. He just wanted the thing to be over, so he could get back to working out.

“So, Sidney. We noticed that you’re sporting some new bling.” The interviewer smiled. “Is there a lovely lady we should know about?”

It took him a minute to comprehend her question. He remained straight-faced, twirling the words around in his brain. In his peripherals, Geno and Tanger looked at him and then Flower.

“Shouldn’t you be mentioning his hockey school?” Flower finally spoke up.

“A what?” His response was delayed, finally realizing her gaze was on his ring. Geno conveniently had his hand between his thighs.

“A lady?”

Flower cleared his throat.

"Oh.” Sid looked at the ground, composing himself. “No, it was a gift.”

His head was down for the rest of the interview. Of course, out of all the things to mention…

0—0—0  


Catherine avoided Kristen’s gaze. Not that Kristen was purposely gazing at her. Sadly, there was nothing else to look at.

“So, how’s it going with Tanger?”

Catherine frowned, then raised her eyebrows. “Oh, Kris. Yeah, it’s good.”

The wives and girlfriends had planned a quick lunch on an off-day, and Kristen had received multiple invites despite the fact she had never been considered part of the group before. Marc had almost forced her to go, saying it would be good to hang out with other women for once. Kristen begged to differ. She had sat beside Catherine hesitantly, as she was the only person she knew.

“Things are, uh… getting serious?”

The other woman simply shrugged, although the look on her face gave Kristen the answer she needed. Kristen poked at her salad, trying to come up with another topic of conversation.

“It’s still so weird not having Anna here.” One of the women spoke to the entire group, pouting. “She had the best stories.”

“Anna?”

“Geno’s ex-fiancé.” Catherine sighed.

Kristen tried her best not to look shocked, which came out in a cough. She had never thought about the fact that he would try to hide his sexuality in that way. Especially to the point of almost getting married.

“It’s so sad things didn’t work out.”

The group all nodded, quietly sipping their wine. Kristen continued to pretend she was eating.

“Kristen, how are you and Marc-Andre? Things are going well?”

Her hand automatically moved to her neck, where the ring was strung on a steel chain. It was hiding behind her t-shirt, but she still felt like it was obvious. “Yeah, it’s been great.”

A woman she recognized as Duper’s wife smiled. “Is it hard? Working with him?”

“Sometimes. We usually keep to ourselves on game days. Honestly, I feel lucky to be able to spend so much time with him. I can’t imagine what it’s like for you guys.” She motioned around the table. “Having to say goodbye so much.”

“I definitely envy that.” Duper’s wife sighed. “The kids hate how often he’s gone.”

The others nodded in agreement, and Catherine looked out the window.

“Have you thought about having a family? How that will work?”

Kristen paused her eating, looking around at them. There were various expressions of excitement at the word ‘family’, paired with sympathy at her ‘tough situation.’ Sure, they had talked about it, but that had always felt so far into the future, when they could focus all their attention on it. She suddenly longed for a glass of wine, long blonde hair, something for her to fit into the crowd.

“We’ve talked about it.” She scratched her hand anxiously. “It’s hard, I want to focus on my career—”

“Which can’t be for much longer though, right?” Catherine turned to her. “You can’t keep doing that forever.”

“I, um…” She swallowed hard. “I guess.”

“Then you’ll be one of us!”

The sentence haunted her for the rest of the lunch, the drive home. Even when she received a loving hug and forehead kiss from Marc, the words bounced around her head.

There was nothing wrong with being a wife. Many of those ladies happily worked their own jobs, had their own lives. Even if they didn’t, there was still nothing wrong with that. Realistically, Kristen would never have to work again when she retired, especially if Marc continued playing. She could spend time with their kids, focus on her work with the NHL’s anti-drug campaigns. But, again, that had always felt so far ahead. Maybe it wasn’t.

She didn’t wear her ring for the rest of the day, or really talk to Marc. She curled up in their bedroom and promptly closed her eyes, trying to pretend the day hadn’t happened.

0—0—0  


“Let me get this straight. You’re worried about Stew not being happy because she had a nap after seeing the WAGs, you’re scared that everyone knows because an interviewer asked if you were dating a woman, and you’re mad because…”

“Catherine.”

“Because Catherine. Okay. Cool. G, any problems with you?”

“I happy.”

“Great.”

“I’m not scared—”

Max lifted his hand to cover Sid’s mouth. “Yes, you are.”

Sid turned back to taping his stick, frowning.

Max didn’t know how anyone could have such great problems. The problems he had felt so serious, so depressing, and here these guys were, getting engaged and planning on babies and being in healthy, loving relationships. He would kill to have those problems.

“She seemed okay before, right? Happy?” Flower frowned at Max. “This isn’t my fault again?”

“Maybe she’s tired. Hard point of the season. God, you should’ve heard Catherine. I think she’s actually going to have a heart attack when I put a ring on it.” Tanger ran his hand through his hair.

“So, you’re planning on that?” Max smirked. The other man blushed.

“It’s not like I’m terrified. It’s just… not the right time. Right, G?”

“Sid, I hate to break it to you, but you’re afraid.”

“Is not good time.” Geno pulled his tuque down past his ears, sighing. “I talk to Stew.” He patted Flower’s arm.

“You’re coming over.” Max grabbed Marc’s hand, pulling him out of his stall and toward the door, waving absentmindedly at the rest of the group. He vaguely heard Sid mention taking Tanger and Catherine out to dinner.

“Am I allowed to tell Kristen where I’m going?” Marc glanced in the direction of the gym.

Max nodded, following behind him.

It felt like it had been ages since the two had hung out and had one of their movie nights, and Max hadn’t realized how excited he’d been the entire day. Like it or not, he missed his Flower, and simply wanted to see his friend smile after all the stress he’d been going through.

Kristen was standing in front of the TV, weights in her hands. Max frowned at the look on her face, surprisingly numb in comparison to what he was seeing on the screen.

“… Laflamme is in critical condition after being found in his hotel room this evening. We have yet to learn any new information, but will keep you updated…”

“Shit.” Marc turned to his friend.

Max raised his eyebrows. “Shit.”


	20. Use Somebody

“… In critical condition…”

“Shit.”

“Shit.”

She knew there were other things happening around her. It was just a TV screen. There were still weights in her hands, pressure on her shoulders that was strangely uncomfortable.

“Kristen…”

Her brain snapped back into reality, eyes peeling away from the screen and directly onto Marc’s face. Max stood behind him, looking at the floor.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Kristen set the weights back in their place, shaking her head as if all the terrible thoughts would fly out. “Yeah, I’m sorry, I don’t know why…”

“It’s okay.” Marc put his hands on her arms, a concerned look on his face. “I was going to see Max tonight, but it’s okay if—”

“No! Yeah, go!” Her voice sounded frantic, and the smile on her face probably looked psychopathic.

“Geno said he wanted you to come over tonight, too, but I can tell him—”

It felt like if he finished a sentence she would collapse from the pressure building up in her chest. “Oh, yeah, that would be great!” She kissed his cheek a little too quickly, almost running to the door. “Have fun, guys!”

They were confused, but both waved slowly as she walked out into the hall.

A chorus of cuss words came out of her mouth quietly, propelling her to the locker room and into her street clothes. There was no time to shower, she would fall apart.

The burst of cold air as she walked outside took her breath away, and all her strength went into finding Geno’s car and jumping in without saying a word.

“Stew? You—”

“Just drive. Please.” Her breathing became ragged, her body telling her something was wrong. “I’m having a panic attack. Please drive.”

Geno nodded wordlessly and peeled out of the parking lot, opening her window so the air numbed her face.

“You want me to talk? Help last time.”

Kristen grunted in confirmation.

“I’m talk to Mom this morning. She try to send me cookie recipe on email, but got address wrong…”

The story somehow continued until they reached Geno’s barely used house. Kristen hadn’t realized how slow her breathing had become, replaced by occasional urges to cry. He unbuckled her seatbelt, long strides bringing him around the front of the car in a matter of milliseconds and helping her to the front door, up the stairs in the foyer and onto his couch with the TV immediately turned to a channel playing Sex and the City.

“I make tea. Good for stomach.” Geno pulled a fuzzy blanket up to her chin, patting her head. “Okay?”

Kristen nodded.

“Then we talk.”

0—0—0

_“It’s fucked up.”_

_“There’s always someone you can’t run away from.”_ Max handed Marc a beer, leaning his head against the back of the couch. _“Of course, it’s the fuckface that screwed up her brain.”_

_“Her brain is not fucked up.”_ Marc frowned. _“She’s dealt with a lot.”_

_“Nothing wrong with being a little fucked up.”_

The movie filled up their silence, although neither of them were truly watching it.

“How are you feeling?” The switch to English somehow made it feel more casual, instead of how serious probably Max intended.

“Confused, I guess.” Marc couldn’t find the right words. “Sad, for some reason. Worried.”

“She’ll be fine. She’s with Geno, they’ll gossip or some shit and you two will be together forever.”

Marc almost glared at him. Why even bother asking how he felt if it was just going to turn into a guilt trip? “Are you sure you’re okay?”

A long sip of his beer, avoiding eye contact. A quick nod. All Talbo signs for ‘not okay.’

“You have to tell me. Or I’m going to leave, because you’re being kind of an asshole.”

“I’m just…” Max practically slammed his bottle down on the counter, sliding his hands down his face. “I can’t look at you when I say this.”

Marc shrugged, sliding around so his back was toward Max. He focused on the bright orange wall in front of him.

_“All you guys… I don’t get how anyone can be upset. I figure, as long as you’re not alone, as long as you have someone who could love you no matter what, someone who you can come home to after a loss and they treat you exactly the same as after a win, you should be happy.”_

_“You’re saying I don’t have a right to feel how I’m feeling?”_

_“No. You’re allowed to not have good days. Everyone’s just been so dramatic lately.”_

Marc turned around, carefully reaching out to touch Max’s shoulder. _“Can I tell you something?”_

He nodded.

_“You can’t keep blaming the fact that you’re alone on other people. Because, like it or not, you’re not alone. Like it or not, you have twenty-five people who will love you, support you, treat you like how you just described. No matter what.”_

Max kept his head down, frowning slightly.

_“You can do this without some blonde chick by your side. You have been doing this for six years already. What’s a couple more, if it means finding someone you’re truly meant to be with?”_

A tear rolled down his face, landing on the counter. “God, I’m just—just so fucking lonely.”

_“I promise, if you ever need someone, at any time on any day, come over. Call. I made that promise to you on day one. I fucking love you, Talbo.”_

_“I love you, too, Flower.”_

0—0—0

“How did you know you were ready?”

Geno sipped his tea, looking at the ceiling thoughtfully. “I’m always know.”

“I’m serious.” Kristen rolled her eyes. “You knew, from day one, that you wanted to marry him?”

“In way, yeah. I’m not want to live without.”

She looked back at the TV, where some blonde lady was fighting with some large man over something that seemed very trivial to Kristen. “I know I don’t want to live without him. Just… isn’t it scary to think about? What if something goes wrong?”

Kristen felt him shrug beside her.

“What if one of you gets traded? Or hurt? Or you meet someone else?”

Geno raised an eyebrow at her. “What this about?”

She didn’t answer. She knew that they both knew what it was about, there was no point in saying it out loud. “Should I call Kevin?” Changing the subject seemed like the only way to fix things.

“Tomorrow, maybe. Give time.”

“Do you think Xavier is okay?”

Geno set his tea on the table, the smell of sweet jam still on his breath as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her to his chest. The act was intimate but only friendly, and it felt comforting to have such a large presence wrapped around her, like a friendly bear.

“I not sure, Stew. Hope so. Can I ask question?”

“Of course.”

“You not mad at him. Why?”

She sighed. “I really can’t tell you. I know I should be.”

“Not love him anymore?”

“Maybe I do, in another universe. Definitely not this one, though.”

Geno nodded. “I get that. Is like with Anna. She my soulmate, in, uh…”

“Another life.”

“Yeah.”

They watched the rest of the movie in silence, and Kristen didn’t realize that they were both crying until she sat up to stretch her shoulders. His was simply from the movie, she could tell, maybe the fact that it resonated with his somewhat turbulent relationship with Sid.

However, she didn’t want to pretend that was the case with herself.

“I’m not ready.”

“Ready?”

Kristen nodded, looking at him. “It’s bad. I’m not ready.”

0—0—0

Marc pulled Kristen’s hair back, holding tightly as he leaned his head against the headboard. A small moan escaped from his lips, parted slightly.

She groaned quietly, and he looked down to where she’d stopped bobbing her head.

“You okay?”

Slowly, she looked up at him, running her hand through her hair when he let go. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this right now.”

“Is your stomach okay?” Marc thought back to the chronic acid reflux and anxiety she’d been facing for the past two days, keeping her shifts short and her mood down. “You don’t have to…”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sorry.” Kristen swung her legs to the side of the bed. “It’s not my stomach.”

“What’s wrong?”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “I have to tell you something. It’s… It’s not great.”

Marc held his arm open, and she moved to lean into him, sighing. He kissed her head, trying to keep the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach at bay.

“I don’t know how to start.”

“You can tell me anything.” His mind went straight to Xavier, who was still in critical care according to the news. It was fair for her to be upset, even if he didn’t like it.

“I’m not ready.”

“Not… ready?”

Kristen, a ball of nervous energy, stood up from the bed, pulling on her sweater. “I can’t be this right now.”

“Be what?” He was more than confused, even though he knew what she meant in the back of his mind. “Kristen, come here.”

“Do you get what I mean?” She was breathing heavy, pacing and flexing and unflexing her hands. “Please tell me you get what I’m trying to say.”

He ran his hands through his hair, pulling his pants back up and stopping her from working a hole into the floor. “Stop.”

Her eyes were devastated when she looked up at him. Voice barely audible. “I’m sorry.”

Marc knew what she meant. He had noticed her not wearing the ring, avoiding the topic when it came up around their friends. He knew that that exact moment, with her looking up at him like a part of her had died, was why she hadn’t told anyone else. Why she avoided his gaze when they had sex, as if it would cement the fact that she would be his forever. As if she didn’t want that.

“I’ll take it back.” Marc held his hand out, surprisingly shaky. “We can return it, or sell it, forget that all this ever happened.”

He didn’t know what he meant by that. Sure, it felt like his heart had been shattered into a million pieces just by her gaze, but he knew that he still couldn’t live without her.

“I get it, if you want me to leave. If this ruins everything.” Kristen took the ring off her finger, gripping it tightly. “If this is it. I understand.”

“Why?” It was all he could muster. His legs felt like they were going to give out, and he sat down on the end of the bed.

“I looked at those women, the wives, and I realized that… I’m just not ready. I want a career for myself. I want to be selfish for once in my life. I want to do that and still have you with me, and I know how fucked up it would be for me to get up to an altar and lie to you.” She paused, gulping for air. “Yeah, I want to be with you forever. But I’m not ready to put that in writing yet. To only be known as Marc-Andre Fleury’s wife. I want to live for me still.”

“So, you…”

“I am still so goddamn in love with you that it makes it hard to breathe. I still look at you across the room and know that I would do absolutely anything to see you smile. You still have me. All of me. Just… maybe not like this,” she held the ring up, “Yet. And I get if that makes this over for you, but… I want you to know that I don’t want this to end. Fuck, all we did was try, and it didn’t work out right this time. That doesn’t mean I don’t want this later.”

She handed the ring to him slowly, carefully, as if he would drop dead if she treated it like anything other than a lifetime of promises.

“You will always have me, Marc.”

He grabbed her hand. “I can’t let you go. We’ll try this again.”

Her smile was sad. She got down on her knees in front of him, kissing his hands softly. “Okay. Thank you.”

0—0—0

“Hey, Kevin.”

“You want to know about Xavier, right?”

“Well, that’s partly why I called.” Kristen ashed her smoke, bouncing in the cold air. “Wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I appreciate it.” She heard voices in the background, men whooping and cheering. “Sorry, we’re watching the game.”

Kristen chuckled. “I can call you back.”

“No, no.” A door shut, and the phone was silent except for his sigh. “He’s not looking great.”

“Do I even have to ask?”

“Overdose.”

Her hands were numb, mostly from the news. It was hard to hear what she’d been expecting for days. “Why?”

“He’s an addict, Kristen. He hates his life. There’s a lot of reasons.”

“God, this is the worst month of my life.” She couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make this about me.”

Kevin laughed with her. “Don’t worry. It’s nice to think about something else. What’s up?”

“I got engaged—”

“What?”

“And then un-engaged. Then my ex-boyfriend decides to be on his death bed and I don’t know what the protocol is for that. And I’m somehow supposed to pretend that I’m okay with all this.”

“I don’t think there is a protocol for any of that.”

Kristen sighed. “I might come visit. We have a week off soon.”

“Are you sure?”

She shrugged, then realized he couldn’t see her. “I feel like I have to.”

“You don’t have to do anything. I’m sure he’d understand.” There was yelling, and Kevin chuckled. “I’m sorry, I should head back out there.”

“Yeah, for sure. Have a good night, Juice.”

“Feel better.”

She knew it wouldn’t help to go see him. It would bring back memories she’d already said goodbye to, ruin the closure she’d worked so hard to get. But was it so wrong to blame herself for all of it? Xavier had reached out, asked for support, and she’d shut him down so easily. Even if he had hurt her, so what? People changed.

Except he hadn’t, really. When she looked in his eyes she still saw the person she’d met in that locker room, the man that had shamelessly held her arms in elevators so she wouldn’t dart out at some random floor, handcuffed her to beds so she wouldn’t say no.

Marc was in the living room, barely turning his head when she closed the balcony door. His eyes were red from their crying session on their bedroom floor when she sat beside him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” He looked at her hands. “How is he?”

“Not good, apparently.” Kristen avoided the topic of visiting him, since even the thought of seeing him in that hospital bed made her want to crawl into the fetal position and bawl. “How are you?”

Marc took a shaky breath, turning back to the TV. “I really don’t know, Kristen.”

“Are you mad?”

“No. I can’t be.”

Carefully, she raised her hand to his face, moving his gaze back to her. He blinked quickly, eyes watering again in a way that broke her heart in two. “You can be as mad as you want. Hate me, even. Just for tonight.”

_“Tu me manques.”_ He brought his hand up to meet hers, holding his cheek. “I… Fuck, I don’t know how to describe it. _C'est comme si tu étais parti.”_

She smiled sadly, not needing to ask what he meant. His face said it all. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I have never loved someone more than I love you.” He suddenly grabbed the back of her head, pulling her in for a kiss that made her heart jump.

The electricity between them felt urgent, like if they pulled away from that moment everything would collapse around them. Kristen’s hands roamed his chest, back, hips. Where his jeans met his hips. Parts of him she couldn’t imagine not having.

Just as sudden as the kiss was, Marc pulled away quickly, still close enough that she felt his breath on her lips. “I don’t want to make this worse.”

She couldn’t help but laugh quietly. “I don’t think anything could make this worse. I just broke off our engagement.”

“And for some reason I still want you so fucking bad.”

“I don’t get it.” She ran her hand through his hair, messing up the perfectly styled look he always went for. She loved when his hair was messy, his eyes wild, things that were so rare for him but so raw that it made her more turned on than she thought she could ever be. “I will always want you.”

_“Tu me rends folle, femme.”_

Marc pulled her in again, and they made things better. On the couch. And on their bed. And in the shower.

She stood in front of the mirror the next morning, looking at her body and trying to figure out where the bruises in the middle of her ribcage came from. Instinctively, she touched her throat as a wave of heartburn-induced nausea came over her, her other hand moving to press on the exact place her bruises were.

“Hey, _mon petit soleil, lumière de ma vie, fille de mes rêves…”_ Marc’s tone was light, joking, and he wrapped her up in his arms. He paused when he noticed her expression. “What?”

“How often do I do…” She demonstrated the pressure she forced on her stomach. “That?”

“A lot.” He frowned when he noticed the bruises beneath her fingers. “Why do you do that?”

“When I feel sick. It helps when I feel anxious about it.” Her mind flowed through the possibilities of why her stomach was so upset so often, many of which made her feel anxious just thinking about. “It’s probably just stress. Hormones. I’ll talk to the doctor today.”

Marc sweeped her up in his arms again, practically carrying (dragging) her back to their bedroom. “We have an hour until we have to get ready. I’m holding you captive.” 

0—0—0

Sid was expecting things to be weird and awkward at practice, considering the amount of shit that had happened the night before. It was like he was living in a soap opera. A soap opera with great actors and hockey, but a soap opera nonetheless.

Marc had called him after the engagement was broken off, an engagement Sid hadn’t even known about, and he and Tanger had consoled him the best that they could. He had almost cried thinking about if the same happened to him and Geno, causing an even longer discussion with Kris about how complicated it was to love anyone.

Then came the call from Max to Kris’s phone, which triggered the conversation about loneliness even when surrounded by other people.

Overall, it was too much, and Sid had been more than thrilled to lay in Geno’s arms that night, watching the Jets play the Coyotes and making out during intermissions.

The room was energetic and loud, as if the volume of the music could drown out everyone’s emotions. Or because Tanger had control of the soundtrack. Either way, the thumping bass rivaled every club Sid had ever been to.

Kristen and Marc were making eyes at each other from across the room, obviously not fazed by whatever had happened. Max was joking around. Tanger had unleashed his dance moves. Things were back to normal, somewhat.

Practice was hard and fast, and everyone’s pent up energy was thrown into every drill. The hour felt like ten minutes.

“Should drink more water.” Geno took off his glove, wiping Sid’s brow in a way that felt too intimate for where they were. No one else seemed to mind. “Look tired.”

“Long night.” Kristen answered for him as she took off her helmet, shaking her hair out.

“Was full moon.” Geno smiled.

“God, I hope you’re right. That was enough shit to last me a lifetime.”

Sid nodded, although he was barely listening. His mind was on their game that night.

“You guys started planning the wedding yet?”

Sid turned to Kristen, frowning. He hadn’t even thought of it.

“What? Just because my engagement ended in shambles means I can’t ask about yours?”

“No, it’s not that. I…” Sid looked to Geno for some assistance with the question, but the other man just smirked. “We haven’t really talked about it.”

Kristen nodded, shrugging. “You got time, I guess. I was joking, anyway.”

“Think Sid wear dress. Look very beautiful.” Geno was grinning widely, and Sid felt a blush bloom on his cheeks.

Kristen laughed, then skated away just as quickly as she’d appeared, practically jumping on Schultzy’s back after a great play.

“I’m not wearing a dress.”

“Maybe not in day. But honeymoon…”

Sid playfully smacked his arm, joining their teammates for the upcoming month’s shootout challenge.

The room was once again positive afterward, with one of the rookies forced to sport February’s moustache. Sid allowed himself to spend time talking to Geno, letting himself relax in front of their teammates.

They were eventually the last ones in the room, Kristen and Marc heading out as soon as they’d finished changing and the rest of the team beginning their pregame routines.

“When would you want to do it?”

“It?” Geno looked up from where he was struggling to get his workout outfit on.

“The, uh…” Sid hesitated, his mouth suddenly dry. “The wedding?”

“Oh! Must be summer, yeah?”

Sid nodded. The reality of their situation hit him. It would have to be a summer wedding; the stress of planning certainly didn’t belong during the season. “Where?”

Geno looked down at him thoughtfully. “Cottage? We spend whole summer there.”

“Really?” Although the two spent a couple of weeks together at Sid’s summer home every summer, Geno would eventually head back to his own hometown, then to spend the rest of his time in Miami. “I wouldn’t make you choose between me and going back.”

“Maybe go for honeymoon. I show you my home.” Geno leaned down, kissing the top of Sid’s messy hair. “I go workout.”

“I’ll see you at home.”

Sid’s drive home was full of floral arrangement ideas, images of wedding cakes dancing around in his head.

0—0—0

“It’s just been constant, I guess.” Kristen looked at Marc. “There’s no pattern. It’s every night, every day. I’ll take anti-acids and be fine for awhile, but it’ll come back.”

“Any added stress?”

She thought back to everything that had been happening the past months and nodded hesitantly.

The doctor nodded back at her, looking at her medications. “That doesn’t help. Now, I’ll have to ask some routine questions.”

“Okay.”

“Any drugs, alcohol, within the past couple months?”

“I smoke. Around four a day. I don’t drink, been recovering for almost a year now.”

“Good for you.” The doctor smiled at her, and it was obvious he meant it. Marc squeezed her hand in support. “Smoking never helps heartburn and acid reflux, but you probably know that.”

“I do. I’m trying.”

“That’s all I can ask. Are you sexually active?”

Kristen snorted. “Yes.”

“Last period?”

She paused. She hadn’t even thought of it. With how crazy things had been, time had gone by too fast for her to notice. “A couple months, I guess. It’s probably stress.”

“I see you’re on birth control.” He nodded to his clipboard. “Very intense.”

“It was for my acne. I was supposed to come off it a year ago, but I never got around to…” Her voice faded out. Marc was staring at her, trying to hide the scared look on his face, and doing it poorly.

“I’m going to get you to go to the hospital, just to run some tests we can’t do here. We can go from there, okay? Just an ultrasound, pap test, routine stuff.”

“What do you think this is?” Marc finally spoke up, frowning at the doctor. “Something easy, right?”

“I couldn’t tell you. As of right now, I would say it is extra stress, and there’s ways we can work with that. It’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Thank you.” Kristen grabbed the sheet the doctor handed her, shaking his hand before they walked out into the hallway.

Marc’s hand was wrapped around her shoulders, a little too tight, as they made their way to the car. She smiled at him as they got in.

“It’s okay. Like he said, it’s better to do the tests than not.”

“Yeah.” Marc sighed as he put the key in the ignition. “You’ve just been through so much. I don’t want anything to be—”

“Hey, no jinxing it. I’ve had lots of ultrasounds before, same with pap tests. It’s nothing crazy.” Kristen grabbed his hand, kissing each of his fingers and making him smile. “It’s after the road trip, anyway. Lots of time to not worry.”

“Or to think about it every minute until then.”

“Shut up.” She leaned over to kiss his cheek. “Let’s go home, make some dinner. I bought pasta.”

0—0—0

The Blues were an easy win. They had been off all season, their losses way higher than their wins. Max scored two goals, a comforting change from how the past couple games had gone, and assisted a goal for Kristen and Sid.

Marc’s blunt honesty had helped him more than he wanted to admit. He had been right, Max was loved by a bunch of beautiful weirdos, and would be okay by himself. It allowed him to focus on his game, his workouts, his eating. He had even contemplated adopting a dog in the offseason. Or maybe a parrot. One of the WAGs could look after it when they were gone.

He knew he should be asleep, they had an early flight the next morning and it was already past midnight, but he found himself cleaning his kitchen. There were companies that could do that for him, people who would be more than happy to dust some NHLer’s house, but he couldn’t help himself.

His phone rang at two-thirty in the morning, a call from Tanger’s number, but he chose to ignore it. No more trivial drama. It could be dealt with in the morning. Well, later in the morning.

After his kitchen was sufficiently spotless, Max headed to his room. He laid in bed for another half-hour swiping on Tinder, another ten minutes watching some blonde chick get fucked by a guy that looked suspiciously like Alain Vigneault. Five minutes staring at the ceiling wishing he had someone to hold, even though he’d promised himself he wouldn’t think that way. Another minute before deciding to wrap his arm around an extra pillow, pretending it was someone else.

0—0—0

Geno was searching for a new phone game, grunting in frustration every time one of them cost money. Kristen couldn’t help but laugh at him.

“Aren’t you a multi-millionaire?”

“Game on phone is free. Should be.”

She rolled her eyes, holding her phone out to him. It was a picture of the dress that had been chosen for her for their next game. “Don’t I look like a box?”

“Pretty box. Lots of…” Geno waved his hand, mimicking the embroidery on its front. “Much fancy.”

“Fuck off.” She grinned. “You’re a box.”

“Think you work on chirps. I’m not understand.”

The ice in Philly was strange, and Sid continuously complained throughout practice. Geno chirped him in Russian, words that Sid seemed to understand perfectly, judging by the blush on his face.

Video was brutal, considering the rivalry. Kristen couldn’t keep her eyes focused on the screen, her body deciding to keep track of how many times Marc poked her thigh. Why he was doing it, God only knew, but it was enough to make her smack his shoulder after number ninety-two.

The group ate their lunch at the hotel afterward, a buffet set out for them. Marc and the French-Canadians were having an in-depth conversation about something Kristen couldn’t put her finger on, leaving her and Justin to eat their spaghetti in silence.

“I hate the lighting in here.”

She looked up at him, snorting. “What?”

“It looks like a morgue.”

Kristen had to admit, the ‘mood lighting’ in the banquet hall was anything but uplifting, clashing with the burgundy wallpaper in a very unflattering way. “I can see that.”

“Makes you look like a zombie, Schultz. Even more than usual.” Tanger had separated himself from the group of Frenchmen, a shit-eating grin on his face.

“Oh, he speaks English?”

_“Foutre le camp.”_

“How’s quitting smoking going by the way?” Justin joked as the other man stood up, pulling his coat on.

_“J'ai dit va te faire foutre, gamin.”_ Tanger smiled, tapping Kristen’s shoulder. “You want one?”

“Is Dan around? He’ll kill me.”

Kris shrugged. “I’m a bad influence.”

The two made their way outside, an area away from the bustling front doors. Tanger offered her one of his smokes, and she graciously accepted.

“So… Life. How is it?”

“Did you suddenly get extremely bad at small talk?” Kristen laughed as she exhaled, causing her to cough. “It’s been a lot, in all honesty.”

“Yeah.” Tanger watched as a kid ran by with a hockey stick. “Veronica won’t stop talking about it.”

She didn’t have to ask what he meant. “I can’t imagine how it is for the kids. Is it weird for me to say that?”

“None of this is normal, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I just… keep thinking about the last time I saw him, you know? If there was something I should’ve said.”

Tanger shook his head. “Dude’s an asshat. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“People keep saying that.” Kristen leaned against the wall, tilting her head back as she exhaled. “I’m guessing you know about the events of That Night.” It had been such a dramatic night that the teammates involved had given it a nickname.

“Yeah.” He looked at her, and she couldn’t help but notice the slight worry in his eyes. “I’m really sorry about that.”

“I was the one that called it off.”

“Still. You guys are okay, though?”

“I think so. I mean, it doesn’t feel like anything’s changed. Still talking, still laughing, still fucking.”

Tanger faked a disgusted face, then stomped his half-smoked cigarette out. “Good.”

“Catherine? How’s that?”

He shrugged. “I’m whipped. It’s great.”

Kristen patted his shoulder, putting out her own cigarette. “I’m happy for you. I’m happy we can talk.”

“Shit happens. Can’t make me hate a teammate. A sister.”

0—0—0

It was always interesting playing Philadelphia. It was one of those places where if you were recognized as anyone but a Flyer, you would get flack. Sometimes even a chocolate milkshake to the face.

Geno didn’t fully mind. He liked chocolate milkshakes, he rarely allowed himself to have them. It was like a cheat day that he hadn’t planned. A surprise.

Sid found the whole thing less than amusing. The look of shock on his face when Geno strolled into the locker room covered in the drink made everyone stop talking.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Angry fan. Security catch him, is good.”

“No. No, what the fuck? People can’t just do that!”

Geno shrugged, accepting the towel Dana was holding out to him and wiping his face. It was easy for him to laugh at himself, if anything he was happy it had happened. The room seemed to light up after Sid’s outburst, chuckling (and Max laughing his ass off) as Geno stripped off his drenched suit and casually threw it in the garbage.

“I leave with no clothes. Is fine.”

Max shook his head, looking at their captain. “It’s okay, Sid. He said they dealt with it.”

“Fuck. I fucking hate this city.”

“Good. Use as motivation, hey, Sid?”

0—0—0

Dan was trying out new lines, which meant Kristen was left watching Geno’s amazing talent instead of being a part of it. She was with Sid on first line, still more than she could ever ask for, but the change was screwing her up. Or maybe it was the Flyers’ crowd, who seemed especially rowdy that night. They were on track for another win streak. She didn’t want to fuck it up.

She realized she was grinding her teeth. Her knees were locked, shoulders tense. The game against the Blues had been too easy, any sort of challenge was forcing her into a pit of frustration. The score was tied, 2-2.

“Fuck, come on!” Tanger pointed his glove at the ref. “That’s bullshit!”

The ref simply shrugged, escorting him to the box.

Kristen had never been more thankful she wasn’t on the penalty kill. It was a very physical game, and she wasn’t ready to potentially pop her knee out and have to sit around again. Hockey was the only thing keeping her sane at that point.

“You okay?”

Sid was eyeing her cautiously, as if she was about to spontaneously combust. She shook her shoulders, hoping it would help.

“Yeah, just… you know.” She nodded toward the ice, and he nodded.

Sid started going over a play with her, easing her anxiety slightly. She watched his glove as he explained it expressively, almost using his whole body to mimic where she should be when he was at the net. It wasn’t long before they hopped over the boards and into their places.

It was rare that she focused on anything other than the upcoming faceoff, but Kristen could feel Marc’s eyes on her as they lined up. Nothing bad, but definitely distracting. She longed to be able to look back at him, to see his smile light up the building before going into her shift.

The sound of Sid making some sort of noise snapped her back into reality, and it was on.

0—0—0

Marc’s first reaction when they got to the hotel room was to make some sort of joke, but he could tell by the look on her face that it wouldn’t go over well.

“You played great.” He decided on a compliment.

“Shut up.” She smiled quickly, her face settling back to its frowning position. “It’s my fault.”

“It’s never one person’s fault.”

Kristen shrugged, motioning for him to help her unzip her dress. He almost ran over, antsy to feel her bare skin against his for the rest of the night.

“I don’t know where my head was at.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t fucking focus all night.”

Marc slid the dress off her shoulders, kissing her bare back lightly as she stepped out of it. “You’ve been going through a lot. A lot to think about.” He kept his arms wrapped around her.

“Anyone else would be able to…” She sighed, loosening his grip so she could sit on the edge of the bed. “Fuck, it’s not even worth talking about.”

“You can. You should.” He sat beside her, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his shirt. He hadn’t realized how confined the dress shirt had felt until the air hit his chest. It had been a long game for the whole team, but the puck had stayed in their zone for most of the night. He hadn’t sweat that much since his first game. “I want to hear about it.”

“Have you been talking to Tara?” Kristen smirked. She’d been assigned a therapist by the team’s doctor.

“No. Maybe.”

“God, it’s just—what else could go wrong, you know?” She wrapped her arms around his stomach, pulling him down to lay beside her. “Playing has been the only thing stopping me from going completely insane. And… I just couldn’t stop thinking about us tonight. About what I did to you, how much you give me and how I’ve barely given you anything back.”

“You’re wrong.” He rolled onto his side, touching her cheek. “You give me everything. You make me so happy.”

Kristen shrugged, closing her eyes as he stroked her hair. 

“Is this what you want?” Marc hadn’t realized how badly he’d wanted to ask the question. He didn’t really know if he wanted the answer.

Her eyes opened quickly. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged.

“I don’t want to have this argument again.” She sat up, shaking her head. “I don’t want to feel like the bad guy.”

“I’m not trying to make you the bad guy. There is no bad guy.”

“But I am, though, right? Like, no matter what I do, you’ll be constantly thinking that I don’t want this.” She moved to the mini fridge, cracking open a ginger ale and frowning at him.

“Why are you so afraid of me wanting to know?” Her sudden anger had caught him by surprise, although he didn’t know why he was shocked. The question was dumb, he’d known that from the start, and he must’ve known somewhere that her anger would be the outcome.

“This is my first time doing this. You’re acting like I have all the fucking answers!” Kristen leaned against the wall, closing her eyes. “Everything’s just going so fast.”

Marc’s heart skipped a beat, and not in a good way. He couldn’t decipher her expression.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Her eyes were still closed.

Slowly, he stood up, carefully taking the can from her hand and holding her shoulders. “You have nothing to be sorry about. If anything, I’m sorry. I wish I could do more.”

She opened her eyes. Her gaze was on his lips, hands reaching out to touch his chest. “There’s no guidebook for this. But… if I had to argue with anyone, it would be you. I hope you know that.” Leaning forward, their lips met, a hard kiss that eventually made his lips feel swollen and butterflies bouncing around in his stomach.

The sex was hard, emotions that had been buried down suddenly coming out as their bodies met. Marc let his mind go blank, focusing only on the way she felt, the way she looked him right in the eyes. It was rare he was this hard with her, he much preferred something slow and gentle that could help him last longer, but there was something about the way she begged that sent him over the edge.

Kristen’s nails dug into his back, he was sure there would be marks later, and she was mid-moan when they heard a knock on their door.

“Don’t.” She held his arms tightly as he started to get up. “They’ll leave.”

“Flower!” The voice had an all-too-familiar Russian accent, followed by more knocking to the rhythm of some pop song. “Stew!”

“Fuck off!” Marc called, his stare burning holes into the door.

“Fireworks!”

Kristen cleared her throat, and he looked back to her. “I, uh… I actually kinda want to see that.”

Marc chuckled. “Seriously?”

“I mean, we can finish—”

“Stop fucking and get out here!” Max had joined Geno.

Kristen tapped Marc’s shoulder, wrapping the sheets around her before cracking open the door. “Give us like… three minutes.”

“Five, tops!” Marc called from the bed.

“Make it two.”

0—0—0

Max laughed when the couple finally joined them outside. “What happened to two minutes?”

“I said five.” Marc took the hot chocolate Geno was handing to him, pulling his hood tighter to his face. “It’s fucking cold.”

“It’s fucking winter.” Tanger smirked. “Thought you’d be all warmed up, considering the—”

“Okaaaay.” Kristen smacked Tanger’s arm, plopping into one of the many lawn chairs set out in the hotel’s parking lot. “Why is this happening, again?”

“Philly just does this, I guess.”

Kristen grunted in response, accepting a thermos from Geno. He had insisted on making her some ginger tea, since she couldn’t have the hot chocolate, and had adamantly ignored Max’s complaints. Max had wanted to get outside as quickly as possible. He didn’t see fireworks nearly as much as he should.

_“Should I ask why I heard some very loud voices?”_ Max leaned closer to Marc. The other man simply shrugged, waving him away.

_“It was nothing. Hard times.”_

Max nodded, although it was killing him to not ask more questions. He could tell Kristen was listening to them, even if her French wasn’t good enough to understand.

Eventually, the group quieted down, enamoured with the colours illuminating the sky. Max couldn’t help but think how lucky they were to have such a great view, and how lucky he was to be sharing the moment with his team. It was lame, considering the two couples that had chosen seats beside him, leaving him to cuddle his mug of cocoa. Somehow, he still had a smile on his face and what felt like a miniature sunshine in his stomach.

0—0—0

_Xavier would always remember the first time he saw her. Lost, looking a little alone and very attractive, although a little skinny. Workouts weren’t as intense in the little leagues, apparently._

_He had never meant to stare. His marriage was in shambles, he hadn’t been fucked or even had his dick sucked in so long that he almost forgot what it felt like, his kids seemed to be growing fast as lightening. He was never around. But, still, he never meant to stare._

_She noticed, though. All through practices, games, this tension building inside of both of them until he finally knocked on her door after a particularly hard loss. They both needed it. He knew it wouldn’t happen again._

_Except it kept happening because they kept losing._

_Xavier would always say he had three loves. His wife, his Krissy, and his drugs. Booze turned to weed, weed turned to ecstasy, somehow making his way down the drug food chain until he was passing out in bathtubs beside a needle with Kristen laying on his chest. He always fell asleep on his back, if only to hopefully die in his own vomit. It was the death he deserved._

_His eyes opened easier than he was used to. She was staring at him._

_“You really fucked it up this time.”_

_“Of course, I did. You expect anything less?”_

_“I didn’t expect it to end like this.”_

_She was speaking French, she didn’t know how to speak French. He didn’t question it, for some reason._

_“How much did I take?” He was aware of her legs straddling him, how warm she was on his lap._

_“Too much.” She rolled her eyes. “You need details?”_

_He didn’t. The last thing he remembered seeing was the picture of his wife and kids on his bedside table, an image that was intensely sobering given how much was in his blood stream._

_“I’m dead.” It wasn’t a question._

_“It’s your choice.” Kristen got up from his lap, opening a door that hadn’t been there before, the light illuminating her and almost blinding him. “You’re tired?”_

_“Of all of it.”_

_“Then give up.”_

_His kids were in front of him, pounding their tiny hands on his chest to the beat of his heart. The light got brighter._


	21. "How do you say 2-on-1 in Russian?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to suddenly finding myself with three jobs, posting is going to be a bit random for the next month or so. this is just a silly drabble, but i hope you guys enjoy anyway!

“G?”

“Here!” His voice echoed through the comically large house. Kristen had no idea where ‘here’ was or how in the fuck she was going to find him. They should put up a map. ‘Evgeni Malkin’s house: you are here.’

Kristen kicked off her shoes, which looked incredibly worn in beside Geno’s designer sneakers, and made her way down the hall. The text she’d received that morning had been ominous, a short sentence followed by a wide array of emojis that made it look like a child had stolen his phone. Some sort of Geno humour that she would never fully understand.

It took her what felt like years to find the kitchen, and she was immediately uncomfortable with the silence of the room. Geno sat at the island, his expression somewhere between humour and pain.

“I have tell you something. Should’ve told you for long time.”

Kristen stood across from him. She was unsure what her face should be doing, so she settled on a small smile. “Not even a hello, huh?”

“Is serious. Have to tell now.”

“Okay. Yeah, tell me. I’m dying to know.” It was a joke, which he obviously didn’t approve of, judging by the look on his face.

“You not going to, um… believe.”

“Try me.”

Geno chuckled nervously, twiddling his thumbs. “I, uh… wow.” He laughed again. “Is hard.”

“Like… you’re hard or the situation is hard?” Kristen smirked.

“Shut up. Stop laughing, not funny. Thing is… You remember Olympics?”

“I vividly remember losing to you crazy Russians and then getting hammered.”

“So… Don’t remember after?”

Kristen shook her head. She had woken up in a random hotel room afterwards, practically dragging Xavier out by his shirt collar, only thinking about making it to their bus in time. “Seemed like the usual.”

“No.” Geno reached across the counter and gripped her hand tightly, as if he might fall off his stool. “You always my _младшая сестра,_ yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Not hate me for this?”

“No, not at all.”

“Well, we… You celebrate with us after.” His eyes were focused on their hands. “You and Xavier.”

“That explains the hotel.”

“And Ovie.”

She shrugged. “Makes sense.”

Geno sighed shakily. “I sorry.”

“Why, G?” Kristen felt anxiety creeping up. “What happened?”

“You’re not remember yet?” He sounded hopeful, but it was quickly ruined by her shaking her head. “Okay… Was Ovie’s idea. I too drunk, say yes. I’m regret it. But… Wasn’t bad?” He groaned, frustrated. “Too much.” He pointed to his head.

“Okay, so Ovie came up with a way to celebrate, and even though you normally wouldn’t do it, you said yes because you were drunk? But you don’t regret it in a bad way?”

Geno nodded.

“How about you just say the hard part first and then explain from there?”

“We sleep together.” He didn’t hesitate, finally letting out a breath that he’d been holding the whole time. “Three of us.”

Kristen wanted to laugh. She wanted a clever comeback, a cocky answer. Something that would make them holding hands feel less awkward. Instead, she felt her knees weaken, and she leaned on the counter. Any form of a sentence was drained from her brain.

“I say, it not bad. We have fun. But,” he pointed to his chest, “I gay. Was in it for Ovie. He want to fuck you. I’m not know why you do it.” He shrugged. “I’m not remember a lot, too.”

“Who else knows?” It was all she could muster in her shock.

“Ovie, Xavier, you, me. Some Russian guys.” Another shrug. “Was long time ago. No one say anything.”

“I…” She squeezed his hand, if only to remind herself that she wasn’t dreaming. “Why have I slept with everyone in the fucking league?”

“Drugs bad.”

“And you don’t find this weird at all? We’re such close friends—”

“I’m say, I gay. Not like that for me. You blackout, assume is not like that for you. Weird in beginning, maybe. But I’m realize you not remember, you start to be family. I’m tell you as brother, not lover.” He smiled.

“I…” Kristen truly had nothing to say. It wasn’t that she was mad or hurt that he hadn’t told her earlier, it probably would’ve made their friendship weird. In all honesty, it was pretty funny. She knew Geno would never do or say anything to hurt her.

He stood up from his seat, walking around the island to hug her. They stayed like that as he spoke. “Don’t have to talk about again.”

“So… we’re not telling Marc and Sid?”

“Sid know. He laugh for two hours.”

“And Marc?”

“Don’t tell.” Geno leaned back, smiling. “He get weird.”

0—0—0

The idea to meet up with Ovie after their game was not hers. Geno wanted to prove to her that things would be okay, which she really hadn’t questioned from the beginning, but he thought hearing it from someone else would help. It made the game insanely weird, and their win was tainted with the knowledge she’d have to talk to their rival after.

“So, you want know everything, yes?” Alex was grinning. She felt uncomfortable under his slightly sexual gaze.

“Not everything. Just… tell me you haven’t told anyone.”

“Would never tell a soul. I have model girlfriend, not gay. Geno, too.”

Geno awkwardly looked around the hallway. “I’m break up with Anna.”

“Oh. Too bad. She cute.” Alex turned back to Kristen. “You have Flower. We all know was not any meaning behind it. We good.”

The two men spoke in Russian for a bit, leaving Kristen to attempt to check out the NHL’s second greatest player. He wasn’t bad, but definitely wasn’t the type of man she would go for sober. The knowledge of his strong relationship with his girlfriend made it even harder to find him sexy. Whatever had happened, it was very much in the past. There were no lingering feelings on any end, except for maybe Geno, but even then, it wasn’t anything serious. They had all been sluts back in the day, and that was that.

She still wasn’t telling Marc, though.

0—0—0

_“Seriously?”_

_Alex was struggling to get her dress off, his hands tugging dangerously close to her hair._

“Let me.” _Geno groaned in Russian, taking his hands off Alex’s dick long enough to undo the buttons along her spine. The other man slid it off her shoulders, rolling his eyes._

_It was that time of night where everything seemed blurry, and that type of drunk where Geno could hardly focus on translating whatever English dirty-talk Kristen was saying. His mind was preoccupied on getting Ovechkin’s pants off, anyway._

_It was a joke at first. Xavier had happily started describing how good his girlfriend was in bed, and Alex was more than thrilled to suggest she prove it. She was high on something, hands a little too touchy and pupils bigger than the sun, so obviously she accepted. Geno just wanted to celebrate and forget how beautiful Sidney had looked during the handshake. It was a win-win-win._

_Her mouth somehow ended up on his, waking him up from whatever dream world he’d found himself in. It wasn’t what he wanted, really—her body didn’t excite him the way it needed to, and the liquor was making it hard for him to, well, get hard._

_He let himself drag Alex’s body closer._ “I want you in my mouth.”

“Actually?” _Alex sounded too sober, and Geno blushed but nodded._

_Alex simply shrugged, moving so he was practically sitting on Geno’s face. He opened his mouth._

_It crossed his mind numerous times that night that it would be awkward the next morning. Or the next time they all played against each other, blurry memories of each other’s bodies and sounds._

_At least they would never end up on the same team._


	22. Shrike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know if any of this is medically accurate, but the show must go on

The almost week-long road trip went by quickly, the last three games ending in high-scoring wins for the Pens. It was more than a nice break from the drama at home.

Everyone’s minds were on the upcoming week off as they filed onto the plane. Sid reveled in the positive vibes, allowing himself to simply think about what he’d be doing on his break instead of the games that would be coming up after it. It was at the point in the season where games felt heavier, more important, and any wrong move felt like a disaster.

Marc’s long sigh brought Sid out of his upcoming dinner plans. He tilted his head to the other man.

“Yes?” Marc questioned.

“Everything good?”

Marc shrugged, pulling out his PSP and setting it on his lap. “Just want to be home. Also, don’t want to be home. Haven’t decided.”

Sid agreed. Geno had promised that they would talk more about the wedding, specifically who to invite, but that wasn’t what Sid truly wanted. He needed to know when, if, they would be coming out fully, if Geno was ready to let go of his hometown and give his everything to Sid. The conversation had to happen, no matter what his fiancé said.

He thought of bringing up what he’d heard coming from Flower’s room back in Philly, an argument that had quickly led to sex, sure, but still an argument. Geno had jumped at the chance for them to make the noise stop as soon as he saw the fireworks.

“How’s Kristen?”

Marc, already engulfed in the ritualistic game of Call of Duty, nodded in response.

“Good. Good.” Sid lazily grabbed his own PSP, already mentally preparing for the chirping that would ensue.

Back in Pittsburgh, he found himself immediately heading to the rink, even though it was an off day. Geno reluctantly followed him, since he was his ride home, which caught the attention of their regular group. The six of them spread out around the arena, Kristen and Geno heading to the gym and the rest of them hanging around the locker room.

“Scrimmage?” Tanger nodded toward the door. “Just for fun.”

Marc happily agreed, along with Max, and Sid hastily walked toward his own locker after them. He had been hoping to practice alone, time to think about how he was going to bring up his difficult discussion with G.

The conversation between the men quickly turned to French. He tried his best to keep up, but the slang and chirping went by too fast.

It felt like every conversation the couple had was serious. That was okay, they were conversations that had to happen (such as whose house they would be living in and did they really need three cars?), but Sid missed the jokes and easy talks about their childhoods. He wanted to ask the guys how to bring that back to their relationship, but the thought of it made his cheeks burn. It wasn’t right to bring his personal feelings for Geno into the work environment.

Luckily, the guys brought it up first.

“You picked a best man yet?” Max knocked his shoulder against Sid’s as they skated around the ice.

Shit. He’d once again forgotten about that. “Um, no. Not yet.” He tried his best to avoid Max’s smirking face. “Lots to choose from, you know?”

“Oh, so your first choice isn’t me?” Max laughed at Sid’s shocked face. “I’m kidding. I get it.”

“I always thought it would be G.” Sid chuckled. “Guess that wouldn’t work.”

“I mean, why choose a wedding party at all? You know we’re all gonna be there.”

Although it was a joke, Sid decided it was a legitimate option. What was the point in having the wedding if all their guests were standing up there with them?

The scrimmage eased his nerves substantially, and by the time he and Geno had arrived at his house he was feeling more positive about the whole thing.

“I’ll start dinner.” Sid strolled into the kitchen, bringing out a plate of pre-made pasta from the fridge.

“Is midnight. Past.” Geno glanced at the clock. “Was going to bed.”

G’s voice sounded almost as tired as he looked, and Sid nodded, defeated. “I’ll be up in a bit. I need some food.”

“You okay?” Geno walked over to him, wrapping his arms around his waist.

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Is not real smile.” G poked Sid’s lips, pouting. “I stay until finish.”

Geno did just that, plopping himself down at the kitchen table and watching Sid microwave his food. Eventually, he pulled out his phone. Waiting five minutes was never his strong suit.

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something.” Sid sat down across from him, his fork picking at his food. “I get it if you’re too tired…”

“No. Talk.” Geno set his phone down. “I listen.”

“Okay. Well, um… I wanted to talk about the wedding.”

The other man nodded, as if he was expecting that topic to come up. He probably was.

“I just think we should start planning, you know? If it’s going to happen in the summer. And do we want wedding parties? No, do we want a big wedding or a small wedding? And what kind of cake? I wanted to get something everyone will like, and then you should be in charge of food since you know what Kristen can have, and—”

“Sid.”

He had been on a roll, spinning the spaghetti around on his fork at a momentum that would’ve been dangerous had he continued. “Yeah?”

“Time to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

Geno blushed, holding his hand out for Sid to take. “I’m already think about that. Have, um…” He mimed opening a book.

“Scrapbook?”

“Yes. Have scrapbook of things I’m think you like. Cake, food, suit…”

A smile slowly spread across Sid’s face. “You’re just as crazy as I am.”

“Not go that far.”

He pushed his plate aside, standing up.

“Sid, dinner?”

“Fuck that. We’re going upstairs.”

Geno smirked. “I’m not think scrapbook turn you on. Should show earlier.”

0—0—0

It was strange to wake up without a schedule, with nowhere to be. She thought she was going to sleep in, she’d even ordered Marc to turn off their alarm, but here she was at six in the morning with nothing to do. Marc was still asleep.

Kristen had actually woken up at four and had already made a cake that was sitting on the counter. She stared at it, watching some of the sprinkles slide off the side. Iced it too soon, patience was never her cup of tea.

She knew she shouldn’t book the plane tickets, but something in the back of her mind compelled her to grab her laptop. She’d blame it on boredom. The last-minute flights were cheaper than she’d expected.

The sound of her phone ringing brought her out of whatever stupor she’d found herself in, and she rushed to the counter to grab it before it woke Marc up.

“Stew.”

“Hi, G. It’s early.”

She heard him sigh and brought her attention back to her laptop.

“Can’t sleep.”

“Same.” Kristen glanced at the clock, it had only been twenty minutes. “What’s up?”

“I’m want to ask question. Not like last time, promise.”

She laughed quietly. “If it involves Ovechkin, I’m hanging up.”

“No, no. About wedding.”

“Shoot.”

“What?”

“It means go for it.”

“Oh. Yeah. I’m want you to be best man. Best woman. Gonch is best man.”

Kristen couldn’t contain her smile and felt her eyes water up. The man had no sense of suspense, he was always so goddamn straightforward, but she knew it meant as much to him as it meant to her. “Yes, of course, G. Of course.”

“Good.” He chuckled. “You have doctor today?”

“I do.” Her tone changed, and she tried her best to sound hopeful as she continued. “Shouldn’t take too long, hopefully.”

“See you after. Need help with suit.”

“For sure.” She didn’t mention that if the news was bad, she certainly wouldn’t be in the mood for shopping. “Did anyone claim Marc?”

“Sid. He call him today.”

“Awesome.”

“I go to sleep. Call when done.”

She set her phone down. The ticket website was still open, the prices staring at her, daring her to buy them. Slowly, she closed the laptop. It was safer for her to stare at the cake.

0—0—0

“You’re sure you want to go in alone?”

“Yes, Marc. I’ll be fine.”

He frowned at her, then looked around the hallway. It was quiet, except for a few people in the waiting room who were obviously trying to pretend they didn’t know who the couple was. “If something happens—”

“It won’t. It’ll be fine, stop worrying, okay?” Kristen stood on her tiptoes, kissing his cheek. “Just go get breakfast or something. I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

Reluctantly, Marc nodded. He kissed the top of her head, made sure she was settled, and walked as slowly as he could down the hallway. He didn’t know where to go. The hospital cafeteria looked about as depressing as a funeral, and the coffee shop’s lone employee looked too tired to understand what a coffee was.

He found himself at their usual spot. It had been months since he’d been there alone, and the table felt too empty. It was a weekday, early morning; everyone else was at work or school, and it felt like there was a spotlight on him. The employees were trying their best to talk quietly, but he still heard Kristen’s name.

He had to admit, he was nervous. Sure, they were routine exams, and no one had ever even mentioned that something was wrong with her. But… he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else would go wrong.

Sipping his drink, he looked out the window. The snow had melted slightly, unusual for early February, and the slush that had formed made the world look grey and sad.

His phone rang, making him jump, and he answered without thinking.

“Kristen?”

“Sid. Nice try, though.”

“Hey. Sorry. Mind’s somewhere else.” Marc chuckled, trying to shake his nerves off. “What’s up?”

“There’s something I want to talk to you about. In person, if that’s okay.”

He checked his watch, as if it would give him an answer. “I’m actually waiting for Kristen right now—”

“Oh, yeah, for sure. Just drop by when you’re done, G wants to see her, too.”

“Okay.”

There was a long silence before Sid spoke again, his voice hesitant. “Everything will be okay.”

“I know.”

“The odds of anything serious being wrong…”

“I know.”

“You guys have been through a lot of shit.” He sounded apologetic, as if it had been his fault. “A little bit more shit thrown on top won’t do much damage.”

“You would know.” Marc laughed.

“Yeah. I really would.”

0—0—0

She walked into the doctor’s office, still in the process of throwing on a polo she’d stolen from Marc. The woman, Elizabeth, was looking at a pile of papers on her desk, squinting slightly.

“Hey, I was supposed to come here after my—”

“Oh! Yes, of course.” Elizabeth cleared her throat and smiled. She motioned to one of the chairs. “Sit, please.”

The chair was strange, almost rubbery, and made noises every time Kristen moved. If anyone else had been there she would’ve laughed. However, the tone suddenly felt extremely serious, and Elizabeth had a strange look on her face. The look of pity that Kristen thought she was done seeing.

“So, just to clarify, you and Marc-Andre have not been trying for a baby within the past couple of months?”

“No. God, no.” She laughed nervously. “I mean, the thought has been there, but with our careers and… Sorry, you probably don’t need to hear about that.”

“Oh, I don’t mind at all.” Elizabeth smiled, which quickly turned into a squint as she once again looked at the papers. “I’m also seeing here that you mentioned not using a form of birth control before this relationship? Can you tell me why?”

“I answered all of this with Doctor Varshavski.” Kristen frowned. She moved to sit on her hands to hide their shaking. “Is there something I should know about?”

“I just wanted to make sure all of our facts were correct. You did not get pregnant in your previous relationships?”

“I was mostly with other women, I didn’t think it would be… I mean, I guess I had one serious relationship with a man, but I just didn’t…” Kristen paused. How hadn’t she gotten pregnant? Why? “No, I didn’t.”

“I see.”

The diagrams of uteruses that were hanging on the walls felt like they were mocking her, especially the ones with babies happily making their way outside of said uteruses. Laughing at her for being so goddamn risky with her own health. Her sex ed teachers would be thoroughly disappointed.

“I’m going to be very upfront with you because you seem like the kind of person who respects that.” The other woman folded her hands on top of the desk, hiding whatever information was on those papers. “You remember that cyst on your ovary, correct?”

Kristen almost rolled her eyes. She had mentioned to the nurse that she hadn’t retained much information during her time before Vancouver, but that was one of the things she couldn’t forget. “Yes. I got an infection. It was fucking terrible.” She toyed with the buttons on her shirt. “They said it would be fine.”

“Now, did ‘they’ tell you about the scarring in your fallopian tube?”

She shook her head.

“We found nothing else of significant worry during your ultrasound or test; we actually seemed to glide over some very important information that had been supplied to us before.” Elizabeth looked outside to where a nurse was hovering, her eyes shooting daggers before turning back to Kristen. “As Doctor Varshavski told you, your stress is a very large factor in your symptoms, including an irregular cycle and your stomach issues. However…” She took a deep breath.

“You can just tell me. Please.”

“The scarring in your fallopian tubes has caused a lot of damage. Judging by your past experiences, we would have to say that you are almost certainly infertile.”

It felt like a joke, the way she said it so easily. Like she had rehearsed it many times in her head. The information didn’t compute or add up in Kristen’s brain.

“What?”

“I’m very sorry. Now, this doesn’t mean that when you’re ready you can’t try for your own children. It is very rare for scarring to be this bad.”

“So, you’re saying I’m like, one in a million or something? That the odds of this are so fucking rare that you don’t even know for sure?” She could feel her face heating up. Anger, not at Elizabeth, but at the world and how fucking unfair it was and why she had to have everything wrong with her at once felt like it was boiling in her veins. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rash, but what the fuck?”

“I know this is hard to hear. I’m very sorry.”

Kristen didn’t want kids. She hadn’t truly thought about being a mother, even with her short conversations with Marc. She wasn’t sure why her eyes were tearing up, her hands balled into fists under her thighs, and Elizabeth was giving her the pity eyes again as if children had been Kristen’s one and only goal in life. If anything, she should be happy that she wouldn’t have to worry about it… except she wasn’t. The frustration of all of it felt heavy on her shoulders, pushing her down so that her head was in her hands and her body was twitching as she cried.

Elizabeth must’ve gotten out of her seat, because a hand was rubbing her shoulders soothingly, apologizing every once in awhile as the crying got worse.

0—0—0

Sid had made a dinner for Marc, a recipe for ‘gourmet’ mac and cheese that he’d found online, and was setting the table quickly. He had received a short text saying that Marc was off to pick up Kristen, meaning the couple would be there shortly.

“Look good. Make no dairy?” Geno interrupted the table-setting to dip a spoon into the large bowl, almost moaning as he chewed. “So good.”

“I made a special batch for Kristen. It’s in the fridge, if you guys want to stay for dinner.”

“No. Suit shop close soon, must go now.”

Geno kissed Sid’s cheek, his cheesy lips leaving a mess. Sid wiped his face harshly with his hand, pretending to glare at his fiancé. G simply kissed him again and made his way to the door.

“They coming? Been five minutes.”

“The hospital is fifteen minutes away. Plus traffic.” Sid rolled his eyes. “It will be fine. If you’re worried, call the shop, see if someone can stay a bit later.”

Geno sauntered back over to the table after staring outside, sitting down and watching Sid fold napkins. “Is not party. Is Flower and Stew.”

“I know, I’m just… I’m nervous.” Sid set the napkin down, sighing. “I didn’t think I’d be like this. I’ve known the guy for years.”

“Is big deal. Best day of life, want someone special with you.”

“Yeah.”

The two sat, talking about their plans for the rest of their week and watching animal videos Geno saved on his phone, before Sid received a text from Marc.

**Might be a bit later. Stuff came up, tell you when I see you. thanks**

“You can eat more of that,” Sid motioned to the bowl, “they’re gonna be late.”

0—0—0

“Are you okay?”

Kristen thought it was a stupid question, but she nodded anyway. Marc was holding her hand so tightly that it felt like he was breaking a couple bones. “Yeah. It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine.”

She exhaled sharply, stopping their brisk walk to look at him. “It has to be. There’s no other options.”

Marc watched her carefully. “I’m really sorry, _mon petit soleil. Mon dieu, je suis vraiment désolé.”_ He seemed agitated, frustrated and nervous, and Kristen wasn’t sure what to say to make him feel better. “I wish there was something I could do.”

“You don’t have to do anything. It’s my fault.” She hadn’t realized how much she truly believed it until that moment, looking into his eyes. It really was her own stupidity that had put them in that situation. “I know how much you wanted… we talked about…” Her voice cracked. God, she couldn’t cry anymore.

“Kristen.” He pulled her into a hug, ignoring the people walking by giving them weird looks. “Fuck, I wish I could just fix everything.”

“Me too.”

“Do you want me to call them? Tell them we can’t go tonight?”

Kristen had thought about how she was going to tell Geno since they’d started walking to the car. It was crazy, but she had been more worried about telling him than she had been about Marc. “No. It’s fine.”

She pulled away from Marc, power walking until the car was in her sights. Marc said nothing, opening the door and slamming his own closed as he sat down.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“It’s too much.” Kristen looked out the window.

“We’ve talked about this.”

His hand was on her thigh, she could see his frown in the corner of her eye. She knew he wasn’t going anywhere until she unloaded the shit that was going through her mind.

“I feel like I’ve let you down.”

“What do you mean?”

She waved her hand around, not sure what she was motioning to specifically. “This. All of it. You didn’t sign up for any of it.”

“Actually, I officially signed up for all of it as soon as I put that ring on your finger. Even if it’s not there anymore.”

“Yeah, but…” The stress of the day got the best of her, her voice wavering as her eyes started to tear up. “You wanted kids. You wanted a life like all the other guys. And… I can’t fucking give that to you, even if I wanted to.”

“Oh, Kristen.” Marc squeezed her thigh before scooting over, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her closer to him the best that he could. “It’s not like that.”

“And maybe I wanted a chance to give you those things. A tiny glimmer of hope that our lives could be normal when all this is over. Maybe I wanted to look in the eyes of our kid and know that they would be growing up with the most wonderful man as their father.” Kristen looked at him. “I think I lied about not wanting all of that. Sitting there, having to hear that there is, once again, something fucked up about me that I will never be able to fix… I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t know how to do this.”

“No one does.” She could see his own eyes starting to water, his frown replaced with a look of sadness that broke her heart. “Nothing is ever easy. There’s never a right answer.”

Kristen snorted. “The king of pep talks makes a comeback.”

He rolled his eyes before wiping them with his sleeve. “You know what I mean. Yeah, this is fucked up and shitty and not what I ever imagined I would be going through, but that’s what life is. You know that. Now, please, reschedule with Geno. Let’s just watch a movie and forget about all of this for a bit.”

Kristen smiled, a genuine smile that she hadn’t expected, and Marc blasted her favourite songs as they made their way home. Geno was more than understanding, and Sid told Marc that he hoped they had a relaxing night. Things, although shitty, felt strangely normal.

But, as she watched Marc slowly drift to sleep, she couldn’t get her mind off the one thing she desperately needed to forget.

The tickets were cheap. The guilt she felt after was going to cost her, though.

0—0—0

Marc went to see Sid the next morning, assuring Kristen that it was okay for her to have a day to herself for the first time in months, and Geno texted to make sure she was okay. She told him she would explain more when they next saw each other, although she was sure he would hear all about it from Marc.

The house was empty, her stomach in knots from overthinking, and multiple ginger ale cans lined the coffee table while she marathoned Friends. It was almost enough to make her forget she had a flight the next morning for a day trip to Vancouver.

Kristen had avoided packing while Marc was there, although she knew she couldn’t just up and leave without him noticing. It had been a dilemma on whether to invite him, or even tell him, for most of the morning.

Max Facetimed her around noon, saving her from the thoughts of distraction via online shopping.

“I’m so sorry.” It was the first thing he said, making her shake her head.

“He told you already.”

“There are no secrets.” Max smiled sadly. “You know I won’t tell anyone unless you want me to.”

“I wish I didn’t even know about it. I don’t want to be that sad cat-lady in everyone’s minds.”

“You’re not. At all.” It was rare for Max to be completely serious, and the look on his face made Kristen want to cry. “You’ll always be Stew to me. No matter what’s going on in there.” He motioned to his body.

She laid down on the couch, resting her phone between some cans so that she could still look at him. “Thank you.”

“How has Flower been? How have you been?”

“I mean, we just found out. I don’t think either of us have really processed what this means, or if it changes anything.”

Max nodded, glancing behind the camera. “Do you think it changes anything?”

Ah, the one question she’d been avoiding. “I don’t know. Maybe. It’s not like we were trying or anything.” She thought back to the image of Marc’s tearful gaze. “He seems really sad. The kind of sad where he doesn’t want me to see. Like he’s afraid it’ll make me feel worse. Which it probably will.”

He nodded again, sitting in silence for awhile as Kristen rolled onto her back. It felt like she was in therapy.

“You can call me anytime. I could come over?” He sounded almost hopeful. “I don’t want you to feel alone. Or do something stupid.”

“A little late for that.” She knew she shouldn’t tell him; the information would almost certainly get back to Marc.

“Excuse me?” Max raised his eyebrows. “Tell, now, please.”

“It’s nothing terrible, really.”

“Then you can tell me.”

Kristen sighed, sitting up. Max watched her expectantly. “I… fuck, it’s so dumb. Did you hear about Xavier?”

“Of course. The guy can’t go two seconds without his face being on TV.”

“Well, I had thought about it before, but I was just so fucking overwhelmed and sad and… I might’ve bought tickets to go see him. Just for a day,” she added when Max opened his mouth, “and I might not even see him, I don’t know why I did it, but—”

“I’m coming with you.”

“You’re what?”

Max nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah. I’m coming so you don’t do anything even more stupid. Oh, and while we’re at it, Tanger can go visit his ex-wife.”

“I have friends there, I’ll be fine.” Kristen’s voice was starting to sound panicky. She toyed with the corner of her sweater, and she was sure there was a pleading look on her face. She hadn’t planned on seeing Kevin, but if it kept a group of Penguins from joining her… “It’s kind of a personal thing, you know?”

“Well now it’s a Talbo thing.” Max grinned. “And you expect me not to tell Flower about this?”

“I don’t know what I was thinking, okay? You can stop all this shit.” She groaned. “You got your point across.” She was mad, the events of the day before bubbling up. Who wouldn’t do what she had done? Especially after finding out what she had? Was it really wrong of her to want to tie up all her loose ends, to only have to worry about one thing at a time?

“Okay. I’m sorry.” The apology was genuine, but she still couldn’t look at him. “I don’t think you should do this alone, though. We can tell Flower that I’m taking you out of town, a bonding trip or something. He can stay with Tanger.”

That was how they ended up in an airport together at four in the morning, Kristen shuffling through security in her socks. She hadn’t had a chance to think about what she was doing, something that was both good and bad, thanks to Max’s commentary on the women he’d been talking to on his numerous dating apps. He assured her he was fine with being single, and she didn’t have the energy to tell him that she didn’t want to hear about yet another woman named Stacy, so she listened and nodded and tried her best to not think about Xavier in a hospital bed.


	23. Go Your Own Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't realize how short this was until i reread it, but you get all the drama, so there's that!

Marc called Kristen as soon as they landed, continuously asking if she was okay and needed to come back home. Max offered to take over and tried his best to convince his friend that everything was fine, she wouldn’t be alone, and they would be back the following day. He understood why Marc was so worried; if his girlfriend decided to go on a spontaneous trip to a place with bad history, he would be acting the same way.

As soon as they arrived at the hotel room, Kristen was a whirlwind of anxiety.

“This was a fucked up idea. I shouldn’t have done this.” She rubbed her face, looking over to where Max was unpacking. “Right? This is dumb.”

“It might be nice. Closure and all that.” He wasn’t sure if he totally agreed with her plan, but it wasn’t his place to have an opinion. “If anything happens, come back. I’ll be here.”

He walked over to her bed, placing a hand on her shoulder. She relaxed into his touch. It was nice to know he could even remotely comfort her.

“I hate lying to him.”

“I know. But hey, he probably already knows.” He held his hands up as she began to object. “Not from me. Just in his heart.”

She nodded and went back to unpacking, pulling out a new pair of leggings and a hoodie and promptly changing in front of him. Max couldn’t help but watch her, only to make sure that she didn’t fall over. He’d never seen her so shaky.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come?”

“I’m meeting Kevin there. It’ll be fine.”

He knew it would be far from fine, but let her go anyway.

0—0—0

Kevin was standing at the door of Xavier’s room, hands folded in front of him and his eyes locked on the wall across from him. Kristen practically ran to him, overwhelmed with emotions.

“God, Kevin.” She sighed with relief, holding her arms out and embracing him tightly. Kevin leaned into her.

“I fucking missed you.” He spoke into her hair.

Kristen wished the hard part was over, reuniting with an old friend seemed like a good way to end the trip. However, she couldn’t help herself from looking into the room beside them, spying Xavier’s motionless feet.

“How is he? Is he awake?”

“No. No, not yet.” Kevin shook his head. “It means a lot that you’re here. Just missed the wife and kids.” He laughed humourlessly.

Kristen cringed at the thought of seeing the family. She hadn’t seen his wife, Veronica, since her locker room tirade, and she’d never even caught a glimpse of the children. She knew if she ever saw them it would break her heart past repair. Her own father had been less than stellar, but she couldn’t imagine having Xavier as a parent.

Kevin leaned against the doorframe, watching her with a cautious look in his eyes. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

For the first time, Kristen was certain. She nodded with a newfound confidence. “I have to do this.”

“I get it.” He motioned for her to go in. “I’ll be out here.”

With a deep breath, she walked through the doorway, keeping her eyes on anything other than the man lying in the bed. There was a chair beside him, something waterproof and uncomfortable, and it squeaked uncomfortably as she sat down. Slowly, she risked a glance.

He looked like he was sleeping, peaceful. It was the calmest she had ever seen him look. She could almost pretend that everything was fine.

0—0—0

_“We have to go.”_

_Kristen nudged his shoulder again. As fun as it was to watch him sleep, she was getting bored and anxious. There was an optional skate that no longer seemed optional, judging by the way Tanner had sounded on the phone, and she wasn’t about to get lectured again._

_“We’ll go later.” Xavier groaned, rolling away from her. “My head fucking kills.”_

_“Of course, it does.”_

_“I’m serious. Cuddle me.”_

_She couldn’t resist his pleading tone, moving to spoon him. His back was warm, and she buried her face between his shoulder blades. He smelled like sweat and weed, a scent that had never been attractive to her until that moment. They could forget about the fact he’d have to go back home after the skate as long as they stayed in bed. She understood his hesitation._

_“I really love this.” He sighed into his pillow, at a volume where she barely even heard. It was one of the only genuine things he’d said to her that week._

_“I do, too. I really love you.”_

_Of course, there was no answer, as he’d already passed out again, but she pretended that he said it back. It was the only way she could justify letting him back in._

0—0—0

“Do you miss that?” It felt stupid speaking out loud, as if he was going to answer her. The theme of their relationship.

“Fuck, you really took me for granted. I was such a great girlfriend.” She kept her eyes on his feet. “I don’t know why I ever cared about you that much. You never gave me anything. Well, drugs. Bruises.” She let out a short laugh. “God, we were so fucked up. I promised myself I’d never be that girl.”

Kristen had made a pact with her friends back home, it felt so far away from where she was at that moment, that they would never let a man treat them that way. They would never be the girls with something to hide, that were afraid to introduce their man to their family. That they wouldn’t have to justify what had happened to them. And she had done exactly that. She had truly given every part of herself to someone who had nothing within them, no room to grow or change. And for what?

“I hate you.” It felt rude to say that to a dying man. “I mean, I think I do. I should, with all the shit you put me through.”

Finally, she looked back at his face. He was hooked up to numerous machines, the complete opposite of what he had looked like the last time they’d seen each other.

“I miss when we were friends. You know, that night we went to the park and talked for hours, I’d never felt so happy. It was like I was a teenager again.” She paused when she realized how young she’d really been, just turned twenty. The whole thing felt like it had been a decade ago. “You made me laugh so much. I think that was the only time I saw you sober all season.”

She started to feel self-conscious, realizing how strange it would look to a nurse strolling in. It was obvious that she was the mistress. Even if a random woman talking to herself was a normal image for the hospital staff, it felt extremely weird to Kristen. There was nothing she could say that would make things okay, no way for her to get the closure that she desperately needed while Xavier was unconscious.

0—0—0

_Her hands were melting into her face. No, her face was melting into her hands, dripping down her wrists and falling in her lap. Either way, something was melting where it shouldn’t have been._

_Xavier was laughing, his face raised to the ceiling. He wasn’t melting, he was shining, glowing, and she briefly wondered how no one else was gawking at him. He looked like an angel._

_She wanted to laugh, too, but the melting was extremely distracting, and it felt like she was having a heart attack. She longed for someone to notice the pain she was in._

_Tanner had wandered over at some point, and Kristen immediately held her hands toward him, hoping that they would do the talking._

_“Fuck, you guys are toasted.” Tanner chuckled, holding her hands and kneeling beside her. “What’s up, kiddo? You need anything?”_

_“My face.”_

_Confused, Tanner raised his hands to her chin, cupping her face. “Like that?”_

_The melting immediately stopped, replaced by a solid feeling like she was stone._

_Xavier was looking at them, a lopsided grin forming on his face. “You love her.”_

_Tanner, obviously embarrassed, brought his hands away from her, glaring at the other man. “You’re high, man.”_

“Oui, _and you’re in love with her.”_

_For some reason, she was fine with that. At some point she grabbed both of their hands and had tried to drag them to the bedroom, the only way she knew how to thank people for caring about her. Tanner had pulled away, saying something she didn’t hear, leaving her with Xavier’s hard grip on her wrist and penetrating her without a word. The melting started again._

_“Can you… hold me?” Her voice was quiet._

_Xavier simply laughed, flipping her over and grabbing her hips roughly. It felt like they were dripping through his fingers, like her body was going to rip in two under the pressure of him._

0—0—0

“I can't believe you let me have sex with Ovechkin. Oh, and my new best friend, so that’s pretty funny.” Kristen rubbed her wrists, the phantom feeling of handcuffs making her feel trapped beside him. “You wanted me to fuck everyone so that you didn’t feel like shit about us. Always felt like shit about us.”

She could’ve sworn that his fingers moved, but his eyes were still closed.

A wave of overwhelming sadness washed over her as she realized how still he truly was, the situation that he’d put himself in. The fact that even after all the fights and blood and tears, after she had promised herself she’d never see his face again, she still felt indebted to him in some weird way. Still felt like she had to take care of him, as if she was responsible for any of this.

“I found out that I’m infertile yesterday. You would’ve loved that.” A tear made its way down her cheek, and she wiped at it harshly. “Joke’s on me, though. I finally find a person that I’m truly happy with, and I still can’t have a normal, happy ending. Something’s still wrong. Fuck.”

Her wavering voice made her stop talking. She moved closer to the bed, resting her head down in the space beside his arm.

“I wish I could stop missing you, dickhead.”

0—0—0

_“You know I have to leave. They’ve wanted me gone for awhile.”_

_Xavier’s hand was still on the back of her head, holding her close to his face. His breath reeked, his eyes were so bloodshot they looked like they were actually bleeding._

_“You have to let me go, Xavier.”_

_“You can’t do this to me, Krissy. You know you can’t. Don’t leave me here.” The words were pleading, but the tone was angry._

_It would’ve been so easy to set her bags down, accept that they were the epitome of ‘live fast, die young.’ She had no future wherever she chose to go if he wasn’t by her side._

_“I can’t stay here.” Kristen pulled away from his grip, pulling her bags higher on her shoulders. “Get some help, man. Don’t keep fucking yourself up like this.”_

_Somewhere she knew that that wouldn’t be the last of him. He would somehow keep crawling out of the hole he’d dug himself, just to spite her._

0—0—0

“Kristen?”

Her head snapped up, heart pounding. She hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. Kevin stood in front of her with a melancholy smile.

“Sorry. I wanted to give you some time, but I figured you wouldn’t want to spend the night here.”

It was already dark; the shades had been drawn. People’s hushed tones were even more quiet.

“Shit. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no. It’s fine, really.” He pulled an extra chair beside hers. It made the same unnerving squeak as he sat down, which made her chuckle.

“You’ve been here all day?” Kristen frowned.

“On and off. Went to go see the kids for a bit. I’ve kinda been on Xavier duty since this happened. No one else wants to come.”

It didn’t surprise her in the slightest. “Yeah. Figures.”

“Listen, I… I have to ask you something. It’s not the easiest.”

Kristen nodded. Couldn’t be any worse than the decisions she’d had to make in the past week.

“You’re, um…” He cleared his throat. “You’re listed as next of kin.”

“What? Why not…” Her mind blanked on his ex-wife’s name. “Why me?”

Kevin shrugged. He reached his hand to hers, patting it lightly. “They’re going to want you to make a choice. About his situation.”

For some reason she’d figured that he would be fine. He would wake up within the month and go back to his stupid shit. But, thinking of it now, that was beyond stupid. Of course, he wasn’t going to survive. “When do you think that will be?”

“Probably half an hour.”

Kristen frowned, shaking her head. “What do you mean?”

“Kristen, he’s… he’s basically dead. Brain dead.”

All the blood rushed from her head, the room spinning slightly. Nothing could’ve prepared her for hearing it out loud.

“I thought you knew. Shit.” Kevin had his arm around her, holding her steady. “Fuck, I should’ve let them tell you, I…”

He had been right. The doctors came in quickly, spewing information that meant nothing to her before giving her the choices: extraordinary measures for a predetermined length of time or pull the plug. Xavier hadn’t been an organ donor (he swore his organs were too fucked to be any help to someone else), his family had already said their goodbyes. There was nothing left to do but wait for her response.

It was as if everything came back to her, images of smiles and tears and blood and sex and everything they had been and would ever be flowing through her head to quickly to process. That was it. He was gone, just like that. Once again leaving her to be the one making the hard decision. And, filled with anger and love, with a humourless laugh, she answered.

“Let him rest. He’s put all of us through enough shit.”


	24. Lost

Max felt bad waking her up the next morning. After spending the entire night holding her while she cried and told him everything, he thought she deserved to sleep for twenty years.

Her head was on his chest, breathing slow. It was comforting having her beside him. He’d been falling asleep alone for too long.

His phone dinged, breaking the silence. He slowly reached over, careful not to wake her, and checked the screen. It was Marc, wishing them a safe flight.

“Hey, kiddo.” Max pet her head softly. “Wake up.”

Kristen groaned, keeping her eyes closed. “Just carry me to the airport, please.”

He chuckled, quickly replying to Marc before looking down at her.

“I’m sorry about last night.”

Max shook his head. “Don’t say that. I’m happy I was here.”

“I kept waking up and forgetting, you know?” Kristen rolled away from him, the space where she was feeling suddenly empty. “What if they all hate me?”

“Why would they hate you?”

She looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, yeah, but… What else were you supposed to do?” Max wanted to say that she was all Xavier had, that it was brave of her to make the decision that no one else had the balls to. Instead, he patted her shoulder, pointing to her phone. “Let Flower know we’re okay.”

She groaned again, scrunching her eyes. “I should tell him.”

“When we get back. Don’t worry about that now.”

0—0—0

It was rare for her to dread being back in Pittsburgh. Kristen always got through tough road trips with the knowledge that their bed would be waiting for her, Marc running them a bath as soon as they got home and rubbing all her sore spots. He had cared to learn those things; where the bruises would always form on her arms and legs from hard hits, the things that helped her when she was anxious and crying and at a loss for words. She had never looked forward to being around someone as much as she did with him.

That time was different, though. Her heart was pounding when the plane landed, her brain scattered when Max dropped her off. He had looked at her for a long time as they sat in the driveway, saying nothing and everything all at once. Then he promptly pushed her out the door, nodding his head.

Marc was in the shower when she got in. She set her bags on the bed, stripping off her sweatpants and layers of shirts.

“Hey, I’m back.” Kristen stepped inside, kicking her underwear and bra off to the side. “Can I come in?”

Marc stuck his head out from the shower curtain. _“Bien sûr, mon petit soleil.”_

She stepped in carefully, his arms around her in an instant. He looked so handsome, the water on his chest accentuating the muscle that was usually hidden. He smiled, and the warmth that had been missing from her chest returned so suddenly that she felt like she might cry.

“I missed you.” He ran his fingers down her arms, across her chest, taking her all in. “It’s been so long since we spent a day away from each other.”

Kristen rested her head on his chest. His heart was beating a little faster than usual, like a kid that just found out they were getting a puppy.

And with the most random timing, she realized he really did love her. No matter how many times he’d said it, or how many times he assured her that he had in fact signed up for her bullshit, it took that one random moment to realize it was true.

“I lied to you.”

Marc’s smile disappeared. “What?”

“We went to Vancouver. I went to go see… and he… I had to…” The words were jumbled in her brain. All that came out after that were choked sobs, her hands shaking.

Marc pulled her closer, rubbing her back. He didn’t ask questions. He held all her weight up as she cried, occasionally kissing her forehead and rubbing her arms. It took her awhile to catch her breath; the water was surprisingly warm still, given her breakdown.

“Do you want to tell me?”

“Yeah. I do.”

He looked shocked at her response, as if he’d been expecting her to shake her head. Which, given her track record, was an appropriate assumption. Without hesitation, he practically carried her out of the shower, wrapping her in a towel and dragging her to the bed. He motioned for her to continue.

“We went to Vancouver.” She thought about explaining everything, but the tears were threatening to fall again. “I had to… pull the plug. Xavier was brain dead by the time I got there. No one told me.”

Marc’s eyes widened, his mouth open. “I don’t know what to say to that.”

Kristen couldn’t help but laugh at his expression. The whole situation was hilarious.

“Are—are you okay?” He pushed a stray hair away from her face. “Should I be worried?”

“It’s all just so fucked up.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “His ex-wife didn’t even want to make the decision. The man you’ve spent years with is fucking brain dead and you leave it to the mistress?”

“Oh, darling.”

“I’m so fucking tired.” She laughed again.

Marc was watching her carefully, as if she might spontaneously combust. “I’m really sorry.”

The tears started falling again, this time without the shaking hands and convulsing body. “I wanted closure. To move on officially. I thought I’d get to see the look on his face when he realized I’d never be coming back, some sort of satisfaction. It just feels like they won again.”

“Who won?”

“All the assholes who think it’s okay to treat people that way. To—” Her voice wavered, and she cleared her throat, “To hurt people like that and not get any fucking punishment.”

Marc sighed sadly, nodding his head. It had been a problem in the league for years, and it wasn’t the first time Kristen had ranted to him about it, but she knew that he could tell it was different that time. Xavier had been her one shot to win one for the victims.

“I wish I could protect you from the world.”

“Yeah, I do, too.” Kristen cuddled closer to him, swinging her legs onto his lap. “This works for now, though.”

0—0—0

Dan had given Kristen a couple of games off, and although she still showed up for skates and practices, managing to joke around with the guys and catch up with Tanner, Marc missed her. He bordered on annoying the next afternoon, hovering by the door to make sure Kristen was comfortable and not about to jump off the balcony. She shooed him away (mainly by throwing all the decorative cushions on their bed at him until he left) and had promised she was fine. He didn’t fully believe her.

“Dude, you haven’t trash talked anyone yet today. You good?” Justin skated over to him, knocking the blade of his stick against Marc’s pads.

“He misses his girlfriend.” Cooke chuckled.

Marc tried his best to laugh. It was dangerous to start thinking about her so close to a game. “I’m fine.”

Those two words became his mantra for the rest of the night. Goal scored against them twenty seconds in? _I’m fine._ Goal in the second period? _I’m fine._ No answering goals, leaving them down by three by the time it hit the third period? _I’m fine._

He was almost thankful the game ended so one-sided; it gave him the ability to head home knowing there was nothing else he could’ve done.

However, the rest of the team seemed to feel differently.

“Pub tonight, Flower.” Sid said as he strolled to the showers. “Late practice tomorrow.”

“So that means I have to go out?” His voice sounded whiny.

Sid simply laughed.

So, Marc went to the pub. He watched the replays of the game on multiple TVs and listened to Max’s dad jokes. He bet that Rusty would beat Tanger at pool and promptly lost twenty bucks.

Eventually, he ended up at the bar, staring off into space and rethinking every decision he’d made that game.

“Mind if I sit?”

Slowly, Marc made eye contact with Tanner, who was standing beside him uncomfortably. “Yeah, go for it.”

The other man plopped himself on the barstool, sipping his drink. “Thanks. You looked like the quietest person here.”

“It’s a rarity.” Marc chuckled. “Don’t get used to it.”

“I’ll try my best.”

They sat in silence for a bit, Marc knowing that his teammate needed some time to himself. Kristen had explained to him how grateful she’d been that she was given some space when she first moved there. It was a rough move, especially so late in the season.

Eventually, Tanner glanced at him. “So, you and Kristen, hey?”

He was unsure how to respond, nodding. The comment made him remember that there were other players in the league that knew about them; it felt so normal at that point that they were together.

“I think it’s awesome. She deserves a good guy.” Tanner looked down at the coaster the bartender had thrown to him, picking at its rough edges. “I was excited to come here, seems like she’s been having a lot of fun.”

“Thank you.” Marc could feel himself blushing at the compliment. “Yeah, she’s had a tough time. I’m happy she’s happy.”

“It didn’t look good for awhile there, you know? We were worried about her.”

“We?”

“Me, Juice. The twins. It was a pretty fucked up time.” He shrugged. “I guess it still is, with… Well, you know.”

Marc nodded again. Talk of her made him want to rush home, even though she had been more than happy for him to spend some of the night out. It would be good for him to spend a night with the guys, according to her.

“You’re liking it here?”

“Oh, definitely. There were a few guys who were jealous of me. Moving’s hard, but… I guess just being on a losing team isn’t that great, either. Fresh start, and all that.” Tanner watched as Max sat down beside them before turning back to Marc. “Get to play with some of the best.”

“Awwwww.” Max smiled, wrapping his arm around Marc. “The best, he says.”

“Let me know when those guys decide to show up.” Marc grinned. “Definitely weren’t there tonight.”

_“Hey! No beating yourself up. Losing is a team effort.”_

_“That sounds very Crosby-esque.”_

Tanner laughed along, obviously just enjoying the time spent with them. The trio joked and talked for another hour, before Marc decided it was time to go back to the girlfriend.

He left feeling confident. Even with a loss.

0—0—0

“So. How have you been?”

Kristen cringed at the question. She wasn’t even sure if she had an answer.

“Let me rephrase. How was your night?”

“It was fine. Slept, mostly.”

“Did you watch the game?” Tara was watching her expectantly, tapping her pen lightly against the arm of her chair.

“No. I watched some movies, read a bit. Like I said, slept.”

She had scheduled the appointment because she was playing that night. It felt like the right thing to do, after taking what felt like too many days off. If it hadn’t been for practices, she would’ve forgotten what ice felt like.

“That’s okay. You’re allowed to take a break once in awhile.” Tara smiled kindly. “So, what did you want to talk about today?”

Kristen told the truth. “I just felt like I should see you. Because of tonight.”

“You’re nervous?”

“Not any more than usual. I guess I just… thought I should.”

Tara nodded. “Do you want me to ask you some questions?”

She felt relieved. It was always easier to talk about her feelings when someone else wanted to hear them. “Yeah, please.”

“Do you think it’s strange, playing after what happened in Vancouver?”

“With Xavier?”

“Yes.”

“I… I guess, yeah. Like, there’s some sort of ‘before’ and ‘after.’ As if that could affect what happens tonight, you know? How we play.” She paused. The window in front of her made her feel vulnerable. Not that anyone would care she was seeing a therapist. God, it had been suggested so many times she’d lost count. “I think about it, all of it, and it feels like there’s this… hole. Something’s missing, or people keep taking something from me, and usually hockey helps fill that gap, but this time I just don’t know. I don’t know if I can fix this.”

“Why do you feel like there’s something to fix?”

Kristen finally looked Tara in the eyes, immediately feeling too close to her. It hit her that she was talking to a real person, and she had to force herself not to close off her emotions.

“I don’t know. That’s just how people word it.”

“What parts of your life do you feel like need fixing?”

“All the parts that I have no control over.”

“And what part can you control?”

“Going out tonight. Playing my best.”

0—0—0

“I don’t want to talk about this now.” Sid slammed the car door closed as he and Geno walked toward the arena. “Please.”

“I’m think is important. You feel better.” Geno grabbed his arm. “Please?”

Sid practically dragged him over to the side of the building, hissing in his ear. “I can’t talk about the wedding right now, okay? Leave it alone.”

Geno backed away with his hands raised, and the two walked into the locker room separately and silently.

The discussion of dates had gotten to both of them. Paired with the fact that only a select few people could be invited, the wedding had become less of a fun conversation and more of a stressful battle. Sid wanted to invite someone, but Geno didn’t want them to know. Geno wanted to go to Russia after the wedding, but Sid had decided he didn’t want to spend their honeymoon barely touching each other.

Sid took a deep sigh as he sat down, beginning to pull on his undergarments. It was decently early, he had only seen a few guys wandering around and stretching. He decided to focus his energy on being positive and glanced over at Geno’s stall. The other man looked up and smiled gratefully, making Sid feel better.

The rest of the team slowly trickled in. Kristen and Marc walked in last, his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“Stew!” Geno called, and his smile made Sid’s heart do backflips. They had seen her on and off since the news about Xavier, but he could tell everyone was just as excited as Geno was to see her play.

As if on cue, the rest of the room erupted in a synchronized ‘Stew!’, making her blush and look at the floor.

“You’re acting like I was gone for twenty years.”

“Because we missed you.” Justin smiled as she sat back down in her spot.

Sid felt even more relieved that she was back. The lineups were back to normal, and everyone’s energy seemed to be lifted.

He stopped Geno as they were about to do their pregame handshake.

“Hey, I’m sorry, okay?”

“Is stressful time.” Geno nodded, then leaned in close to him, so that his breath was on Sid’s ear. “I love you. Is okay.”

Sid had goosebumps for the rest of warmup. He would never get over hearing those words.

0—0—0

Kristen’s legs burned as she skated up the ice, trying to keep up with where Sid was headed. He wanted her on the goal line, ready for his pass behind the net. They had practiced the move almost religiously, it seemed to be the best way to beat Oilers’ goalie.

The time moved slower than usual as she awaited the pass. The puck landed on her blade perfectly, and she dodged the defence before lining up for her shot. The men seemed bigger than usual, and she suddenly felt unsure. At the last second, she passed to Tanger, who was more than happy to take a shot while she made her way to the crease.

The puck rebounded off the goalie’s pads, and it was mayhem in front of the net. She had no idea where the damn thing had gone, but she wanted to get it past the little red line more than she wanted a second to rest.

“Right there!”

The direction was vague, but Kristen was somehow able to get the puck out of the way of everyone else’s sticks. With all that was left in her, she pulled herself around the goalie’s spread legs to land a shot in the corner of the net.

She couldn’t control the cry of relief that came out of her as she watched the goal light shine and the referee point at the net.

It was double overtime, and she had scored the winning goal.

Moving back toward their own net, she hesitantly pointed up to the roof. “There you go, asshole.”

If there was an afterlife, Xavier wouldn’t be able to complain to her.

The celebration felt blurry after that, and she didn’t remember sitting down in her stall. She felt like she might pass out from the feelings that were flooding her brain, and the congratulating hugs she received made her want to cry.

“Hey, you’re first star, kiddo.”

Max was standing in front of her, his gaze careful.

“Oh. Okay.” Kristen could barely form a sentence, let alone stand up, and the rest of the room knew it. “I, um… I don’t know if I feel like going out there alone.”

Max looked around the room. “Well, no one said you had to go out alone.”

“Max…”

With a small smile, Max offered her his hand. “We know what you’ve been through. How much of a fight tonight was. Come on.”

Slowly, she accepted his offer. Kristen had no idea how shaky her legs were, and she was suddenly hit with a feeling of dehydration she’d never had. She hadn’t paid attention to her body, simply on the game in front of her, and she was paying for it. Justin grabbed her before she toppled over, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

“Easy, kid. Don’t want you falling over.”

Suddenly Marc was on her other side, Max in front of her. She could hear Geno’s voice from behind.

“Wait.”

The group stopped, and Kristen turned behind her. “Glasser? Get over here.”

It was a tight squeeze through the hallway, and almost impossible to get through the bench’s gate, but the crew finally made it onto the ice. Her helpers stopped at the bench.

“You got this.” Marc smiled, motioning for her to go forward.

Grabbing Tanner’s arm, the two skated toward center ice, lifting their sticks. The crowd cheered loudly, knowledge of the loss of their previous teammate seeming to make the noise echo even more than usual.

Kristen glanced over at her friend. She hadn’t talked to him much, thanks to the stress of her current situation, but seeing his smiling face made a weight lift off her shoulders.

A tear rolled down her cheek as she smiled back at him.

0—0—0

“Did you see these?”

Marc held out his phone, the light making Kristen open her eyes. They had been trying to go to sleep for hours after the game, but the celebrations had taken up quite a bit of time, paired with the fact that Kristen had sat in the shower and cried for an hour when they got home.

“What is it?” She squinted at the screen.

“Pictures, from tonight. You and Tanner.”

Kristen grabbed his phone, rubbing her eyes before looking back at the screen. “Oh. Oh, wow.”

The picture was beautiful, the golden lights illuminating her and Tanner’s smiling faces perfectly. Marc, Max, Justin, and Geno stood in the background, off to the side and out of focus, but still there. “If it wasn’t for the picture of when you kissed me, this would be my favourite.”

“You’re gonna make me cry again. Stop.” Kristen laughed.

“It’s true. You look beautiful, _mon petit soleil. Lumière de ma vie.”_

Kristen looked up at him, placing his phone on his chest. “I love you. I love all of you guys, so much. But mostly you.”

“I know, I’m kind of the best.” Marc grinned as she rolled on top of him, pretending to smother him with her pillow.


	25. I'm On My Way

“So, good news and bad news.”

Kristen looked up at Duper, lowering her glasses and setting her book to the side. “Don’t tell the good news first.”

“No! Good news first.” Sid smacked her arm.

Pascal raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of them. Tanger, obviously frustrated with the whole situation, waved his hand.

“Just say whatever you want. _Se dépêcher.”_

“So… We’re gonna have to wait here. For awhile. Meaning four hours.”

Kristen groaned, leaning her head in her hands. They had been at the airport for hours already, thanks to a surprise snowstorm that had cancelled every flight in Pittsburgh. The last thing she wanted was to spend more time in the stuffy building with a bunch of impatient men.

“But that also means we get to move from this general area.” Duper motioned to the small set of chairs they were at, all twenty of them and equipment managers, coaches, and social media people crammed into a corner. _“Partir!_ Stretch your limbs!”

She wasn’t sure if she wanted to move. Even though she felt like a sardine, it was comforting, and her view of the storm was entertaining. Marc, however, was bouncing his legs and mouthing something to Max.

“You can go, if you want. I’ll survive here.”

“You can’t stay here. It’s boring.” Marc pouted. The long wait had left most of the men drinking way too much coffee than they needed, which had made the delay somewhat entertaining. “We’ll wander around.”

Rolling her eyes, she tucked her belongings into her bag and stood up. The chair had caused her feet to fall asleep, and she stumbled into Marc’s chest.

“You need to stop drinking, Stew. You’re a mess.” Max grinned, dodging a smack from both of his friends.

“Maybe I should start again. It’ll help me deal with you.”

The trio (joined by Sid and G, with Tanger and Tanner wandering behind them) strolled through the airport. There wasn’t much to do; Kristen wished they had gotten stuck at the LA airport, so they could do some shopping. They were occasionally stopped by fans, but most of the people around them seemed to be solely interested on getting to their flights on time.

Eventually, they found the few stores that the airport offered.

“I really shouldn’t.” Kristen stared at the shoe store, her gaze locked on a pair of sneakers.

“Stew, have NHL money now. We go.” Geno pushed her forward, and the rest of the men rolled their eyes, pointing at a Cinnabon before wandering away.

“Hey, I just want to apologize again. About being so distant.” Kristen avoided Geno’s direct eye contact. She lifted a shoe, and he shook his head, pointing at a gaudier pair.

“Is no reason to be sorry. You go through a lot, is hard.”

Kristen still had trouble accepting that she was allowed to be upset. If it had been anyone else, she would’ve ordered them to take a month off. However, she seemed to find solace in the stress of her life and emotions and was always one to push herself to her breaking point. If it hadn’t been for Marc, she never would’ve taken time off to begin with.

“You still need to go suit shopping?”

Geno paused, shaking his head quickly. “No. No, is fine.”

Kristen frowned. “Is everything okay?”

“We argue a bit. Wedding is on hold.” His voice was low, given their very public surroundings. “No big deal.”

“That might be better, anyway. I mean, it’s kind of a stressful time to plan all of that.” She tried her best to catch his gaze, smiling when he finally looked down at her. “We can still go out, though. Pre-shopping, you know?”

“Yeah. I like that.”

0—0—0

Max had already shoved two cinnamon buns down his throat and was moving on to his third when it suddenly hit him.

Something had seemed a little off about Tanner, nothing that made Max not like him, and he hadn’t been able to place it. But right there, in that Cinnabon, Max had his answer.

_“He’s in love with her.”_

Tanger looked over at him, frowning behind his designer sunglasses. The expression made Max laugh, almost spitting out his food. _“What are you talking about?”_

Marc and Tanner were getting along well enough, and thanks to Sid, none of them were paying attention to Max and Tanger’s conversation.

_“Is it not obvious? He’s in love with her.”_

_“I kind of assumed, since they’re dating.”_ Kris rolled his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

_“No! Him.”_ Max tried his best to subtly nod at Tanner. _“Always talks about her, they had that moment during the game—”_

_“Okay, before you get too carried away. That was a friendly moment in a hard time. There was nothing romantic about that. Besides, she’s in love with Flower. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”_ Kris lowered his voice when he said the other man’s name, but Marc still glanced over. _“God, you need a girlfriend, Talbo. Or a dog. Or a cat. Or a fucking sex doll. Anything at this point.”_

Max shook his head. He knew there would be tension in the long run, something was bound to happen between the two, but he decided to take Kris’s advice. He pulled out his phone, opening Tinder and handing it to Tanger.

_“I said YOU need a girlfriend.”_

_“We seem to have the same taste in women.”_

0—0—0

As much as Marc enjoyed talking about Kristen, Tanner seemed to enjoy it more. There were almost constant questions, which he had chalked up to just making up for lost time. However, it was getting repetitive and even Sid could tell that Marc was tired of it.

Kristen and Geno were still gone, so Sid suggested the group try to find them. Marc happily agreed, if only to get away from the pit of jealousy that was growing bigger in his stomach.

“You buy any shoes for me?” Sid joked as he walked up to Geno, touching his arm lightly before realizing where they were.

“Was nothing good.” Geno smirked.

“Actually, there were lots of good things, but someone isn’t a fan of normal person shoes.” Kristen laughed, handing Marc a bag. “For you. Nothing fancy.”

He glanced inside the box. A new pair of black brogue shoes, something he had been wanting for awhile. “You didn’t have to.” He couldn’t help but smile. He’d mentioned the shoes months before.

“Late Christmas present. Don’t worry about it.” Kristen stepped onto her tiptoes, kissing his cheek before looking at the other men. “So, has it been four hours yet?”

“Two more to go.” 

Marc couldn’t help but notice that Tanner remained quiet for the rest of the time, focused more on his phone than conversation with the group. It was fine, they didn’t have to talk the whole time, but the switch seemed sudden. He decided to investigate when they got on the plane.

“You getting along with Tanner?” He asked Sid as soon as he sat down. The other man frowned at him.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

Marc shrugged.

“Why?” Sid lowered his voice. “Did he do something?”

“No, no. Just seems a little—”

“Is this about Stew? You know she would never cheat on you.”

Starting to feel embarrassed, Marc shook his head, focusing his attention on their game of Call of Duty.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I don’t know. He does seem a little off. But he did just move here.”

“He just talks about her. A lot.” His voice seemed too loud, and he quickly shut his mouth. “It doesn’t matter.”

Sid looked at him for longer than usual before giving up. Marc pretended he had never asked.

0—0—0

Kristen spent the majority of her time in the hotel before the game. There were calls to make about Xavier’s funeral. Trying to schedule something like that around multiple NHLers’ schedules was proving more difficult than she could’ve imagined.

All of the guys kept telling her it wasn’t her responsibility, but she knew if she didn’t do it then no one else would. Plus, it kept her mind off the fact that she was supposed to still be grieving and kept the pressure off Doug and Kevin. The two men had been Xavier’s best friends, the last thing they needed was to worry about the stressful stuff.

“Can I be honest?”

Kristen glanced away from her phone to Marc, who was looking down at her with a worried expression. “Go for it.”

“I don’t get why you’re doing this. Why you care so much.”

She almost laughed. “Neither do I, honestly.” She didn’t feel like explaining her reasoning to him. He would never understand.

“Don’t get me wrong, it’s really big of you.” He bent down, kissing her forehead while pulling her phone away. “We have to head out.”

For the first time in awhile, she wasn’t looking forward to being out on the ice. The death had caused a major media buzz within the league, and she felt like she was on the frontline for a war she hadn’t signed up for. The whole team was being questioned but Marc seemed to be receiving more than he’d bargained for, getting swarmed as soon as they stepped outside of the bus. Security pushed the reporters away swiftly, but it still left a bad taste in Kristen’s mouth.

Even the Blackhawks seemed to be taking it easy on her. She was barely covered for most of her shifts, but still missed every shot she took. By the time it hit the second period, she was frustrated with the 0-0 score and tired.

“I need you out front again. Sid’s going to go around back, make sure you’re there to screen.” Dan was pointing aimlessly, as if she could envision what was going on in his brain. “Let’s see those legs move. We’re halfway there.”

Kristen nodded, turning back to where the action was happening. Her lungs burned, heavy from the amount of smoking she’d been doing, and the last thing she wanted was to push herself.

She didn’t get a chance to wait in front of the net, as the Pens immediately turned over the puck and watched in dismay as the Hawks scored. Tanger slammed his stick against the ice.

Second intermission came, and Kristen practically fell into her locker. She ignored everyone’s concerned glances, focusing solely on the penguin in the middle of the floor.

“Kristen. Need to speak with you.”

With a long sigh, she got up, following Dan to a more private room. He shut the door behind them hard, making her body jerk as if she’d just been woken up.

“What is going on out there?” He was frowning, arms crossed.

“We’re down by one. There’s still another period.” Kristen shook her head. “I’m sorry, what is this about?”

“I meant, what is going on with you?”

She should’ve apologized, got down on her knees and begged him to understand what she was going through. Explain how mentally and physically exhausted she was, that maybe she needed a longer break to work through all her emotions. She was supposed to be open and honest about her emotions.

Instead, a surge of anger came over her that she couldn’t suppress.

“What the fuck do you mean, ‘what’s going on with me?’ As if you don’t fucking know!” She pounded her fist against the glass door, causing the whole thing to shake. “I have to sit at home and plan a fucking funeral, spend my own goddamn money on someone who used to fucking hit me, think about how I can’t give the love of my fucking life the family that he deserves, AND I’m supposed to get out on that fucking ice and pretend I’m not being effected by all this? Pretend that I don’t get two hours of sleep a night? Pretend that I don’t think about sticking a fucking needle in my arm, because holy shit, would doing that be easier than having to handle all of this myself? Oh, and don’t forget that I’m now the face of Pittsburgh, right up there with Sidney fucking Crosby, so I can’t let anyone know that I’m really not doing great?”

Dan looked at her wide-eyed, holding his hands out in surrender and about to protest.

“Fucking guess what, Dan? I’m stressed the fuck out! That’s what’s going on with me!”

With that, Kristen slammed open the door. Her heart was going a mile a minute, and she was sweating more than she had during the game. She was met with a completely silent locker room. The men all looked at the floor just as she had earlier, twiddling their thumbs and awaiting the call to get back on the ice.

With a deep breath, she sat back down, pulling her skates on and joining their silence.

0—0—0

It’s a funny thing, what anger could do to a person. How much it could fuel someone.

Geno didn’t even have to play. None of them did, really, as soon as Kristen stepped out on the ice. From that point forward, it was all her.

There was something about watching her come out of her shell even more than she had the past couple months that inspired him to push himself, even though his legs were aching, and he was sick of having to think. That was the thing, he didn’t have to think when she was playing that way. He and Sid just played along, tried to be in the right place at the right time, and the rest happened organically.

It’s also funny how a one goal game could turn so lopsided so quickly. How scoring four goals almost single-handedly could silence a crowd.

That game cemented it in his brain. The Penguins were going to be winning the Stanley Cup, no matter what they had to fight through. If Stew could do it alone, they sure as fuck could do it together.

0—0—0

“You’re trying to tell me you don’t want me to play?”

“That you can’t play. Just until you get this stuff figured out.”

“Do you know how many times I’ve heard that in my life? Almost every fucking day, I’ve had an old white man sit in front of me and tell me that I can’t do this. And you’re looking at me like I’m fucking insane, like it’s female hysteria that’s making me upset rather than a whole shitshow of complications that I’ve had to put on my shoulders for, oh, I don’t know, my whole life? My whole career? And I don’t mean to jack myself off here, in your office, but I’m almost 100% positive that I’m the reason we won last night’s game, so excuse me for being a little pissed off!”

Dan and Mario remained quiet, watching her carefully. Kristen suddenly wished Marc was in the office with her, if only to calm her down. Her outburst felt childish, but she was sure she was going to lose her mind if she didn’t let out what was going on in her head.

“I… I’m sorry, okay? It’s just been a lot.”

“We know that, we really do. All we want is for you to be healthy, and that includes mentally.” Mario reached out to touch her hand lightly. “I can’t take what you said to Dan lightly. You’re not in trouble, but I’m worried about you. Both of us are. And if you’re truly thinking about going to back to the lifestyle that you’ve worked so hard to recover from, we can’t have you playing the game.”

His words brought her back to sitting in an office in Vancouver, hearing almost the exact same speech. Kristen pulled her hand away, rubbing her face before turning to Dan. “I really am sorry.”

The other man only nodded, but she could tell he forgave her.

“Kris has offered to take over the responsibilities you’ve been given regarding Xavier. He believes he’s in a better place to handle the stress.”

Kristen nodded. He’d mentioned something to her before she’d been called in. “Yeah. That’s probably better.”

“If you feel like you’ll be okay to play, we can’t stop you. But the last thing we want is a repeat of Vancouver, and I think you know that.”

She nodded again.

“Take the night off tonight. Think on it, get back to us as soon as you can.”

0—0—0

Kristen decided to come to their game against Ottawa, even with Marc’s somewhat annoying attempts at persuading her to stay home. She needed a twenty-four-hour nap, or at least a hint of a break, but nothing compared to Kristen’s stubbornness.

They walked into the building holding hands, which was a comforting change from the distance he’d been feeling the past couple days. It wasn’t until they got to the visitor’s locker room that she seemed off.

“You okay?” Marc tilted his head to look at her.

“Yeah. I just… I need to find Karlsson.” Kristen nodded down the hall. “I have to apologize. You know, slicing his neck open and all.”

With that, she was already making her way down the hallway, before Marc could question her. He stood awkwardly outside the doors, unsure if he should follow.

_“Fuckhead! Get in here!”_

Max was poking his head out of the door, frowning.

“I just have to—”

_“Stew will be fine. Come on.”_ Max waved his hand frantically. _“Sometime today.”_

Shaking his head, Marc walked inside. There, right in his path, was the biggest card he had ever seen.

“Should I ask?” He looked around the room.

“Is for Stew.” Geno smiled, pointing to the front. “Is get well.”

Marc couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer size of the thing, not to mention the amount of glitter covering it.

“I hate to take credit, but it was all me.” Max said as he pulled on his jersey. “Thought she could use some cheering up.”

“It’s from all of us.” Sid spoke up from his corner of the room.

“You’re all insane.” Marc laughed. “That’s great.”

Even though it wasn’t for him, the excitement on his teammates’ faces made him want to cry. Their concern and love for Kristen made him beyond happy.

_“They need you to sign it.”_ Tanger rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face. _“Sorry, WE need you to sign it.”_

The rest of their time before the game was spent on making sure everyone in the Pens’ organization had let Kristen know how much she meant to them and attempting to get the card in her usual locker space without bending the paper. Not their usual pregame ritual, but it was still worth the momentary stress.

After the warmup, Kristen finally strolled in. Her eyes were on the floor as she made her way toward the front of the room to stand beside Dan.

“Stew!” Geno yelled to get her attention, practically giving half the room a heart attack in the process.

“What?” She looked up, immediately catching attention of her get-well present. “Oh, my God. Guys.”

“Surprise!”

She quickly glanced at Marc. Her grin lit up the room, making him smile back.

“I had nothing to do with this.”

“It’s true, he did nothing.” Max laughed as Marc threw his glove at him.

“It’s from all of us.” Dan put his hand on Kristen’s arm.

Kristen practically ran to look inside the card, tearing up as she read all of the messages. Marc couldn’t help himself, standing up to wrap his arms around her. They stood like that for awhile, her shoulders shaking from both laughing and crying.

“I love you guys. I love all of you so much.”

“It’s what family is for.” Sid spoke for the entire room.

Marc dedicated his shutout to his team that night. No matter what tough times were ahead, it was a nice reminder that they all had each other.


	26. In My Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, gonna be personal for a second here, so if that's not your thing feel free to go ahead and read the chapter!  
> so, i've been going through a lot of shit lately, including having to quit one of my jobs because of a very inappropriate and immature boss. some days i don't smile at all, and then i check my comments on this story and i can't stop smiling. i love these characters, i love this story, and it brings me a lot of joy being able to bring all of this to life. it's always insanely hard to share writing with the world, especially something that has connections to personal things that i have gone through, so i am beyond happy that people are enjoying it.  
> anyway, enough of my personal sappy shit, here's some hockey sappy shit

The beginning of March was surprisingly uneventful, given the current situations that were surrounding the team. Max allowed himself to relax when he was almost certain they had a playoff spot, although it had been confirmed for awhile.

Practices somehow became even more grueling, video and workouts became longer, and almost everyone on the team had something wrong with them. Yet somehow, they all made it work. They were closer than ever, laughing more often, generally having a good time playing hockey. Which was why Max decided it would be a good time to talk to Catherine.

It wasn’t as if they’d dated for years. They’d barely even talked.

He kept reminding himself that as he pulled up to the café. There was nothing to be worried about, nothing that could change the course of his life.

She was sitting in the corner of the busy building, phone in hand. Probably talking to Tanger. Not that it mattered to him.

“Hey.”

She looked up quickly, a tight smile on her face, and his heart jumped. “Hey. How was the drive over? Lots of traffic when I left.”

_“We’re really gonna talk about traffic, hey?”_ Max smirked as he sat down across from her.

“What else is there to talk about?”

“Well, let’s see…” He pulled out his phone, opening the notes app and showing her a list. The way she waved away the details of her ditching him actually made him laugh. “What? Too real?”

She was smiling back, but there was a look of genuine concern in her eyes. “I don’t want you to think I’m a bad person, Max. I’m really not.”

“I never said that.”

“You never had to.” Catherine sipped her coffee, raising an eyebrow at him. “You think I didn’t notice the family skate?”

Max internally cringed at the memory, which already felt so long ago. Time had gone by too fast.

“Listen. I love Kris, okay? I know, it’s not what you want to hear. But this,” she motioned between the two of them, “would never have worked.”

“And you know this how?”

He was trying his best to joke, to bring the topic back to lighthearted banter instead of something that felt like it was ripping him in two. However, it was obvious she was having none of it, and why would she? Max was the one making it weird, not the couple. Max was the one who was still clearly in love with…

Fuck.

_“I think you’re gorgeous, okay? Funny, breathtaking, the most perfect being in existence. Okay?”_

“Max…”

_“And I deserved a second chance, for fuck’s sake!”_

Catherine simply smiled at him, waiting for him to finish. It hadn’t phased her at all.

_“I could’ve really loved you!”_ He was grateful he was speaking French, since the whole café was already staring at him. They didn’t need to know what he was saying. _“And why’d you lie to me? You’re dating a fucking hockey player. Hockey was obviously not the reason.”_

_“I want to be your friend, Max. Please.”_ She reached her hand out then, letting him hold it gently.

And, because Max Talbot had always been too nice of a person, he agreed.

0—0—0

Kristen was laying in the middle of the locker room when Geno and Sid walked in, eyes closed. If it hadn’t been for her heavy breathing, Sid would’ve assumed she was dead.

“Okay, Stew?” Geno walked toward her, leaning over her head. Sid almost laughed at how much he was towering over her.

Kristen grunted in response, and he shrugged, making his way to the eating area without hesitation. Sid couldn’t leave her there alone, though.

“Kristen.”

“What?”

He sat down beside her slowly, making sure to avoid sitting on the Pens’ logo. “What are you doing?”

“Laying down.”

“Why?”

“I just spent an hour on the bike.” She opened one of her eyes, and it was still enough to let him know she was glaring at him. “Why are you here? You’re… three hours early for being early.”

Sid shrugged. “We got bored.”

There was a long silence in which both of them looked at each other. He could tell she wanted to be alone, but there was a part of him that couldn’t handle the thought of leaving. The pre-playoff nerves were getting to him.

“I’m not on suicide watch or anything. I’m allowed to be alone.” Kristen leaned up onto her elbows, smiling. “Although you could probably consider that hour-long cardio a form of suicide.”

“I know. I just…”

“Need to be beside someone.”

He nodded.

“Well then, you have to tell me a story.”

The childish grin on her face was convincing, even though he truly didn’t have the energy for talking. He motioned for her to tell him what to say.

“What did you think of me? Before we met?”

Sid couldn’t help but laugh. “How selfish of you.”

“What? It’s a fair question!” She laughed.

He squinted at her, unsure if he should tell her the truth. Not that the truth was terrible, but it varied substantially of what he thought of her now.

“Well… I thought you were interesting. An interesting choice for the first woman in the NHL.” He chuckled. “I figured if it was going to happen, it would be someone a little more—”

“Better?”

“No, no. Just… stereotypical. Little less controversial, I guess.”

Kristen nodded, her gaze focused on the whiteboard in front of her.

“I don’t mean that in a bad way!” Sid reached to touch her arm. “I was always entertained when your name came up. I thought you were an amazing player.”

“And now?”

“I think you’re still amazing, if not better than ever. You pour your heart out for this game, and you know how much I appreciate that.” He leaned over so that she would look at him. “You’re the best teammate, the best friend, anyone could ever ask for."

She smiled, a wide, honest smile, and ruffled his hair. “Sidney Crosby. You’re such an angel.”

He grinned back. “What about me?”

“I was afraid you’d be an asshole.” Kristen chuckled at his obviously hurt expression. “I’m not saying you are! You’re one of the most genuine people I’ve ever met.”

He couldn’t help but blush, looking down at the carpet underneath them. He always tried his best to be nice, to go against the things people said about him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so… out of it the past couple days. Weeks.”

Sid quickly shook his head. “Don’t be sorry.”

“I should be back in before the playoffs. After all this funeral shit gets sorted out…”

He lifted his finger to his lips, shushing her. She nodded in understanding before getting up and brushing off her hoodie.

“Sid, Stew! Have food!” Geno called from the kitchen. The two knew that they would never be able to deny eating when Geno was around, and happily joined him.

Practice was more intense than ever, thanks to everyone’s frustration with the upcoming schedule. They had almost no days off for the month and would be playing some of their biggest rivals in preparation for the playoffs. Sid felt proud at the number of players that were obviously putting their entire soul into learning the new drills and plays.

Tanger skated beside him when they were done their drill, patting the back of his legs with his stick.

“Cap.”

Sid nodded his head in acknowledgment, toying with the strap on his helmet.

“How are you feeling about us?”

“What do you mean?”

Kris shrugged, smiling slightly. “You know, the playoffs? How we’re doing?”

Sid was never the kind of person to jinx things, so he simply smiled back. Geno had told him multiple times how much he believed they would make it through to the finals, even with Sid continuously shushing him. Somehow, he was starting to believe it, though.

“And how’s…” Tanger nodded over to where Geno was.

“It’s… I don’t know.” Sid sighed. “It’s been a lot. Trying to plan and do our jobs.”

Kris elbowed his arm, a caring look in his eyes. “Remember, there’s no rush to put a ring on it. You have him forever, everyone can tell.”

He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear that until it was said to him. “Yeah, you’re right. Focus on winning.”

“Fuck yeah, Cap!”

0—0—0

“We need food.”

Marc strolled over to where Kristen was sitting in the kitchen. She looked up from her computer, rolling her eyes. “Then go buy some.”

“That was a hint that you should come.” He smirked. The feeling of his hands on her shoulders brought her out of her computer coma, and she leaned into his touch gratefully. “How’s the business, Miss Busy Lady?”

Kristen had been invited to write an essay about substance abuse in sports for a well-known magazine, which had distracted her from the fact she hadn’t been playing the past couple games. It was beyond hard to show up to the arena and not get dressed, so she’d been sitting in the press box with her laptop trying to channel all the high school English classes she’d failed to attend.

“Almost done, I think. I hope.” She sighed. “And then I have to call Juice, they think they have a date for the funeral…”

Marc nodded solemnly, and she could tell he was sick of hearing about it. “Come with me.” He pulled lightly on her arm, forcing her out of the chair and wrapping himself around her. “I miss spending time with you.”

“We literally see each other every day.” She laughed.

“Yeah, but I miss letting you score goals in warmups. And seeing your _magnifique_ smile when you score on the other guys.”

It took some convincing, but she eventually got dressed, and was being dragged to the car before she had time to think.

“Why are you so excited? It’s Walmart.” Kristen couldn’t help but giggle at how fast Marc was walking, almost with a skip in his step. She knew they hadn’t been spending as much time together as usual, but who thought a shopping trip was that exciting?

The two walked hand in hand into the store. Some people glanced over, others acted as if the couple didn’t exist. Kristen squeezed his hand before grabbing a cart and leaning against the handle. It had been awhile since she’d been around the general public.

The list she’d prepared quickly became pointless as Marc started throwing random items into the cart, barely looking at what he was doing.

“You’d think I hadn’t fed you in years.”

“What? I told you we needed food!”

“Oh, yes. I forgot about the random hockey players that appear in our apartment every morning.” She thought back to the previous morning, being woken up by a very clumsy Geno in search of some coffee. “Why do they gather at our house?”

“The pretty lady.” Marc wrapped his arm around her waist.

“That doesn’t explain the gay ones.” She smirked as she opened a freezer door, throwing in some frozen meatloaves for Max.

“Duh. The pretty man.”

“Yeah, sure.”

They made their way through the aisles, occasionally stopping to look at the backs of boxes and take photos with strangers. It was refreshing to get out of the house and the arena and back to reality for awhile.

Eventually they got to the car, throwing in the multiple bags of food and random shit. Marc watched her as she got into the seat beside him, giving her a certain look.

“Yes?”

“I, uh… I was talking to Max about something…” He was blushing. “Something he said he’d done once…”

“Oh, God.”

“No! It’s good.” His hand found its way onto her thigh, sliding up slowly. “Might be fun.”

Kristen raised her eyebrows, glancing around the parking lot. “Are you hinting at what I think you’re hinting at?”

“Maybe.”

She thought about saying no, about laughing it off and going about their night, but the way his thumb was rubbing her inner thigh and the look in his eyes made her rethink her decision.

“Okay. But somewhere less public, please.”

That was how they ended up in a deserted parking lot beside a park, the snow falling against the windshield and all thoughts about their frozen food forgotten. His lips were on her collarbone, nipping at the skin when she grinded against his lap.

Marc tugged at the fabric around her waist, giving her a pleading look.

“Are you sure?”

He smiled, bringing his head back to her neck for another hickey. “I’m the one who suggested it.”

Kristen shrugged. They were truly at the ‘fuck it’ level at that point.

Awkwardly, she maneuvered back to the passenger seat, pulling her pants off and hopping back onto his lap. His pants were already pulled down, and the way he was pressing against her thigh made her moan.

Their hands wandered, teeth knocking as she rode him, and she was more than thankful that they hadn’t tried to do it in a Walmart parking lot.

Just as Marc’s breathing became ragged, and Kristen felt like she was going to explode, there was a knock on the window.

“Fuck.” Marc groaned. The snow had conveniently covered all of their windows, but the knocking revealed a flashlight shining in. _“Tu te fous de moi.”_

Kristen slid back into her seat, making sure she was decent. “It’s okay.”

_“Rien de tel que de se faire bousculer par un flic.”_

“Marc. Open the window.”

He continued to complain as he rolled down the window. Kristen squinted as the flashlight illuminated the car.

“Hey, kids. What are you up to?”

She frowned at the accent, something too familiar for it to be a coincidence.

“Oh, my God.” Marc exhaled heavily, leaning his head against the steering wheel.

Tanger looked back at them, the biggest grin she’d ever seen plastered on his face.

“Dude! What the fuck?”

He chuckled. “Saw your car at Walmart. Decided to follow you.”

_“Auriez-vous pu attendre jusqu'à ce que nous ayons terminé?”_

_“Non, bien sûr que non.”_ Tanger leaned against the car, pointing at where his own was parked. “It was Max’s idea.”

Kristen couldn’t help but laugh as Max waved at them. She turned to Marc, resting her hand on his shoulder.

“We really do have a bunch of children.”

0—0—0

Marc wasn’t excited to see the Flyers logo, let alone the Flyers logo celebrating in front of his net. He was tempted to slam his stick against the ice and cuss out the players in front of him, but sprayed himself with his water bottle instead.

Kristen was up in the press box, probably bouncing around the room wishing she was down there with them. It was easy to forget how much of an impact she made on the team, especially when it came to goals. She had been leading in points before her hiatus.

Sighing, he turned back to the face off. Max nodded at him before looking at the ref.

The Pens won the faceoff, and the puck was almost immediately down to the other end. Geno jumped onto the ice after a quick change, charging toward a Flyers player who had managed to steal the puck. Marc cringed as the two collided, sending Geno to the ground.

He didn’t think to continue watching him, focusing on the puck that was about to fly at him, but the yell coming from the other end of the ice made him falter. It had the same effect on their rival, who tripped over his own skates and missed shooting the puck. A whistle was blown, and Geno remained on the ice.

He was clutching his knee, rocking back and forth and groaning loud enough for the crowd to hear. Sid stood up on the bench, and Marc skated closer.

_“Did you see?”_ Max leaned on Marc’s shoulder, frowning.

_“Fucked his knee.”_ Marc didn’t mean to sound as negative as he did. _“He’s gonna be out.”_

_“You think?”_

He nodded, once again having to hold back breaking his stick in frustration as he watched his teammate being carried into the locker room.

0—0—0

“And it looks like the Penguins might be going into the playoffs without one of their star players, as Evgeni—”

“Fuck, do they blast that every time something shitty happens to us?” Kristen slammed her cup down, waving her hand at the TV as the bartender walked over. He nodded timidly.

It had been awhile since the group had gone to the pub, and after the night they’d had they all needed it. Almost the whole team was there, minus Sid and G, and Max felt partially grateful for their rough night. At least they were all together.

“They should just give you the remote.” Marc joked, dodging Kristen’s shoulder smack with ease.

Max snorted, glancing at Tanger before turning back to his friend. _“So, you two going to fuck in the parking lot again?”_

_“If you let us finish.”_

Kristen rolled her eyes. “So, I never got to ask you how your date with Catherine went?” Tanger raised his eyebrows, and she raised her finger before he could spontaneously combust. “Bad choice of words. Meeting. Meeting with Catherine.”

Max shrugged. He truly didn’t want to discuss it, but the excited look on his friend’s faces made it feel necessary. “It was fine. Good.” His mind went back to the insane number of compliments he’d given her, and he could feel a blush forming. “Nothing crazy.”

Tanger seemed intensely focused on the booze bottles in front of them.

“That’s good.” Kristen obviously didn’t believe that was the end of his story. “Very mature of you guys.”

Kris pushed his stool back. “I’m playing pool.”

The couple watched him saunter away, and Max picked at a thread on his sweater.

“What actually happened?”

He avoided Marc’s gaze as he spoke. “It was fine. We had a good time.”

“What kind of good time?” Kristen smirked, the kind of look that Max would’ve given her.

“We talked. I said what I needed to say.”

“So that’s why Tanger’s pissed.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Max frowned over at Marc. He wasn’t in the mood for jokes, for once in his life.

Marc raised his hands in surrender, looking back at the TV.

The following silence was nothing short of awkward, and Max wondered if he was overreacting. Nothing had happened, there was nothing for him or Kris to get upset over. The whole situation was strange, but when wasn’t life like that? Especially lately.

“I’ll be back next week. After the funeral.”

Max looked up at Kristen. She was smiling to herself, and he couldn’t help but smile back. “Really?”

“Yeah. It’s doing more harm for me to not be out there. I’m ready.”

At least there was something positive happening.

0—0—0

“Do you need more ice?”

Geno shook his head, cringing as he sat up higher on the couch. “Is good.”

Sid got him more ice anyway, draping a cold pack over his knee and handing him a mug of tea.

“Sid, sit. Need to relax.”

Hesitantly, he sat down beside Geno, careful not to nudge his leg. It was terrible seeing him like this, and even more terrible to think about how long Geno might be out for.

“I’m really sorry, G.” Sid stroked his calf carefully. “Fuck.”

“Is okay. Felt before.” Geno smiled sadly. “Happy you here. We have movie night.”

Sid wasn’t in the mood for a movie, but he happily played along for Geno’s benefit, tucking himself under Geno’s legs and putting on a kid’s movie that would make him laugh.

It was hard, given Geno’s general positivity about the post-season, to feel any sort of joy at that point. Sid had almost let himself believe that it could be a generally easy win, and he knew he should’ve known better. There was no room for comfort when it came to that sport, and nothing was ever simple.

0—0—0

Kristen stared at herself in the mirror, focused on every part of herself that didn’t look right. She would be playing the next night, conveniently in Montreal, as if nothing had ever happened. As if today they weren’t burying someone.

Her fingernails dug into her palms automatically when the hotel door opened. She watched Marc peek his head in through the mirror.

“Are you ready?”

Kristen looked down at the floor, shaking her head. She felt terrible that Marc had to be there, given his opinion on Xavier, but he had reminded her that no one there thought Xavier was the best person in the world. It was so true that she almost started crying.

“Some of the guys are outside. Want to talk to you.”

“I’ll be out in a second.”

He nodded slowly, closing the door and once again leaving her alone.

The dress looked too stereotypical, too ‘mistress at her boyfriend’s funeral’, and Kristen laughed at the image. All she needed was a long black veil. Not to mention the shoes that Geno had bought her, eight inches that were impossible to walk in and very stripper-esque. The last thing she wanted was everyone’s eyes on her, which seemed to be the last thing she’d be getting.

Giving up, she walked out into the hallway, gripping at her pack of smokes as if it was a lifeline. Kevin and Tanner stood there, their faces solemn. It was easy for Kristen to forget how close they had become to Xavier, given how much shit they also talked about him.

“Guys.”

“Hey. You look great.” Kevin’s face turned into a grin.

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to take compliments like that at a funeral.”

Tanner rolled his eyes. They were both obviously slightly uncomfortable with the way Kevin was looking at her, given that his wife and kids were close by. But, out of all the places to once again start an affair, the funeral of Mr. Cheat on Your Wife seemed like an appropriate place. As if Kristen would ever do it.

“I got to talk to Marc. He seems like a great guy.”

Kristen smiled at Juice. “Yeah, he’s alright.”

“More like the best relationship I’ve ever seen you in.” Tanner smirked. “What? Bad place to bring that up?”

“I have a feeling none of us will be taking this seriously.”

“It’s a coping mechanism.” Kevin was grinning, but she could tell he was a little drunk and more than a little sad.

Before she could hesitate, Kristen grabbed both of their hands, leading them out of the hallway and toward the lobby. Everyone made room for them, a trio of intimidating players, a trio of aching hearts.

0—0—0

Doug stood in front of the group, his hands folded on top of the podium. His eyes wandered around the room, finally landing on Kristen and giving her a small smile. Even though he felt like he didn’t belong there, the look in Doug’s eyes made Marc choke up.

“I just want to thank everyone for coming out. I know it’s hard for some of us to find the time to be here.”

Kristen squeezed Marc’s hand. He looked around the room at the amount of hockey players that had joined them. Xavier’s old Halifax team, half of the Canucks, a few random people from the NHL. Ovechkin was sitting across from them, and he chewed his gum aggressively as Doug continued.

“I met Xavier in Halifax. We were roomies, and from the first time I stepped into that apartment he made my life hell. But he cared, he loved the game more than anyone I’ve ever met, even with his personal demons. He told me he was a ‘fucking hockey player’,” Doug mimicked his accent, making the room chuckle, “and he truly was exactly that. No matter what he did or how many times he fucked up, he was a fucking hockey player. Xavier respected anyone who had the balls to lace up a pair of skates and leave everything they had out on the ice. And he brought that mentality into his personal life, as well.

“Now, I know I’m not the smartest person. I’m a goon, I beat up people for a living. But he looked at me like I was the greatest person in the world, and I’m…” He paused, swallowing down some tears. “I’m always going to miss that. That love he had for all the underdogs. And I know he wasn’t the easiest person to love, but fuck, once he let you in, it was almost impossible to forget about him.”

Kristen lowered her head. Marc chewed on the inside of his lip.

“I just… I’m just happy you’re all here. It would’ve meant a lot to him.” Doug smiled sadly, nodding his head and walking off the stage slowly.

Kristen was supposed to give a speech, but had backed out at the last minute, leaving Kevin to wander up to the stage alone. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

“Hey, guys.”

“Hey!” Someone who had obviously had too much yelled from the back of the room.

Kevin chuckled. “Only here, hey? Anyway… I played with Xavier in Vancouver. We got pretty close right away, we played the same kind of game. Very in your face, aggressive hockey, and he was the exact same way off the ice. Xavier lived every day like it was his last, and none of us could keep up with him. Well, almost none of us.” He glanced at Kristen, who casually flipped him off. “There is no way to explain what was going on in that man’s head, but that was the best thing about him. And I agree with Doug, it would’ve meant so much to Xavier to see you all here. Okay, that’s it. Thanks, guys.”

The group broke up for some food and drinks, and the event looked more like a cocktail party for a business venture than something remembering a loved one’s life. Kristen occasionally pointed out certain people, telling him stories that left her and her old teammates laughing at their memories.

Even though Marc felt out of place, it was comforting to see that even if he turned into a shitty person, people would still come to his funeral.

Tanger pulled him aside after awhile. He was staggering slightly, leaning a little too much into Marc.

_“I need a smoke.”_

“Why don’t you ask Kristen?”

Tanger frowned at him as if he didn’t speak English, shaking his head and dragging Marc outside. His breath reeked like whiskey, and Marc almost gagged when Kris leaned closer to his face. _“Can you believe this shit? They didn’t even ask Veronica to speak.”_ The drag from his cigarette was aggressive as he continued. _“As if they didn’t spend half their lives together.”_

_“I wouldn’t call a solid three years ‘half their lives.’”_

_“You know what I mean.”_

Marc rolled his eyes, allowing the other man to let out all his worries as he chainsmoked half his pack. Veronica eventually came out hesitantly, apologizing profusely and dragging Tanger down the church stairs and into a taxi.

“I’m assuming the party’s over.”

He jumped at Tanner’s voice, the other man smiling. “Oh, yeah. Fuck, I didn’t even hear you.”

Tanner shrugged, sitting on the steps. “Don’t go in there. It’s a fucking mess.” The look on his face said it all. “Whoever thought corralling all of the NHL’s partiers into an enclosed space deserves a smack.”

“And it’s a Monday.” Marc smirked. He sat beside Tanner, allowing himself to take a deep breath. “How’s Kristen?”

“Mostly been talking to Doug. Saw her eyeing Veronica earlier.”

That had been the one thing she was worried about. The idea of being in the same space with Xavier’s wife was enough to make even Marc’s skin crawl. He hoped they had worked out some of their drama, although he wouldn’t hold it past Veronica to hold onto a grudge. It ran in the Letang family.

They sat for awhile, obviously enjoying the silence. Kristen came out awhile later, her makeup slightly smudged from crying, tired eyes letting Marc know it was time for them to head back to the hotel. Tanner gave her a long hug, thanking her for being there, and wishing the two a good night before their practice the next morning.

It wasn’t until they got to their room that Kristen finally spoke.

“God, that was a lot. I look like shit.”

Marc thought she looked gorgeous but chose to hug her instead of letting her know, slowly unzipping the back of her dress as he did so. She pulled herself away from him, shaking her head with a smile.

“I’m sorry. I’m not really in the mood.”

“I get it.” He nodded, continuing to pull the dress down her body. “I just want to hold you.”

They laid in bed, the TV illuminating their bare bodies as they held each other close. Marc felt nothing but happiness being next to her, and the thought of having her back in a game soon made him feel confident. The team needed her, he needed her, and she needed to be doing what she loved.

“You know, I was in Tampa during the All-Star Game.”

Marc snorted. “That’s random.”

“I know, I was just thinking about it today. Someone asked about the first time I saw you. I know, I know, that wasn’t the first time.” She grinned up at him. “It was the first time I saw you sober. You were having so much fun, I wanted to be you so bad. I wanted to be around you.”

“What were you doing there?”

She shrugged, her shoulder knocking into his. “I don’t know, honestly. Something to do. I was butthurt that they didn’t choose me.”

He understood. The previous years had been tough, and he’d avoided watching the game at all costs. The level of jealousy he’d felt outweighed any other emotion about the game until he was eventually out on the ice for it.

“Do you believe in fate? Everything happens for a reason?”

“Sometimes.”

“Just, what are the odds that we would cross paths so many times, have so many feelings about each other but barely know one another? Why did I think about you so often when I barely knew your name?” She was looking at the TV, but he could tell she was somewhere else. “I just constantly think, you know, why in the fuck was I put through all that bullshit when I could’ve just been thrown here and met you and been doing all of this a hell of a lot sooner?”

“Neither of us were ready yet.” He didn’t fully know what that meant, but he felt it in his gut. They had met each other at the right time, at a point in both of their lives where they were ready to love and trust again.

Kristen nodded in agreement and yawned, snuggling closer to his chest.

“Go to sleep, _mon petit soleil. I love you.”_

“I love you, too.”

0—0—0

Kris ran his hands through his hair, standing up from where he’d been huddled beside the toilet. It was too early in the morning to do anything other than sit in bed and regret his decisions the previous day, but Sid had been texting him for an hour. The only way to shut him up was to go to practice.

Veronica knocked on the door softly, giving him a pitiful smile. “How’s it going?”

_“I think I’m dying. Drank way too fucking much.”_

She nodded in understanding, holding out a couple of Advil. He took them gratefully.

_“Are we talking about yesterday?”_

Kris shook his head quickly, causing the whole room to move. He gripped the counter. “No. I never want to talk about that. You?”

_“I mean, I don’t have a husband to talk to about it.”_

He snorted. _“Go for it, then.”_

_“Why did she come?”_

The question caught him off guard. _“What do you mean?”_

_“Kristen. She didn’t belong there.”_ Veronica looked disgusted, and Kris found himself wanting to defend her. _“Whoever decided she was as important as me—”_

“Stop that. You were the one that passed off all your responsibilities to her.”

His sister looked shocked, shutting her mouth quickly. She had no response, walking out of the bathroom and slamming the door behind her. The noise echoed through his head, forcing him to lean over the sink. It was going to be a long morning.

0—0—0

It was clear that the whole team wanted to ask how the funeral had gone but were smart enough not to bring it up. The group that had gone looked like a mess, even Kristen looked and felt hungover, and they got a decent lecture from Dan about being responsible adults. It was almost the playoffs, none of them should be showing up looking like they’d gone to a frat party the night before.

Kristen sat on the bench, looking out at the empty seats around her. It was shockingly quiet, such a peaceful moment that she could almost forget how crazy it would become in just a few hours.

Not once in her life had she imagined she would be in the position she was in. And what an amazing feeling it was. She was blessed to be going through the things she’d been going through. How many people would ever be multi-millionaires in their lives? How many people would see their name and face plastered everywhere, have thousands of people screaming for them?

It wasn’t easy to get over mourning the loss of who she’d been before Pittsburgh. But it was time, and she knew that she could finally do it.


	27. Don't Rain on My Parade

“Montreal’s fans are insane. Holy fuck.”

Max chuckled at Schultzy’s comment. “They love hockey. Everyone plays hockey here.”

Marc nodded in agreement. Tanger made his way to his seat on the bus, pulling off Marc’s toque and putting it over his own head. Everyone knew how hungover he was that morning, and after practice he looked even worse. He leaned back in his seat, the hat covering his eyes from the world around them. Max wanted to make a joke about it, but nobody seemed in the mood to hear his voice.

“Anyone seen Sid and Geno?” Dan and Dana piled onto the bus, frowning at the lack of their stars.

“I never saw them come back to the hotel.”

“Yeah, they went out for lunch.”

Max raised his eyebrows. Sid skipping out on anything game day related? Unheard of.

“Can someone give them a call?”

Kristen obediently pulled out her phone, obviously spamming both of their numbers as she received no answer from both.

Max leaned forward, tapping Marc on the head. _“Did you see them?”_

_“No. They ran off like they had somewhere to be.”_

Kristen’s voice interrupted them. “Where the fuck are you guys? We’re heading to the arena now; you guys need to be on the bus in— Oh. Shit.” She looked around the bus, frowning slightly. “Yeah. Okay. See you there.”

“What’s happening?” Max practically yelled across the bus. Tanger raised his toque purely to give him the stink eye.

“They’ll meet us there.” She was trying to hide a smile, covering it up with a very fake frown.

Dan simply shrugged, motioning for the bus to drive away. The rest of the group remained quiet and focused, although Max found it hard not to interrogate Kristen. They’d have to see what was up when they got there.

0—0—0

Sid couldn’t contain his excitement. It was the first time in his life that he didn’t feel guilty for missing his pre-game routine.

Geno’s hands were all over him, excitement from being able to play that night paired with what they had just done inspiring every touch and grind. It would only be so long before someone caught them, but he truly didn’t give a fuck. There was nothing like the way Geno touched him.

“Should head in. Will be in trouble.” He whispered against Sid’s neck.

“Do you really want to though?” Sid lifted his thigh to rub against Geno’s crotch, causing the other man to moan and lean closer. “We still have some time.”

“Siiiid.”

“Fine, fine.”

The two climbed out of the janitor’s closet slowly, being sure that none of the staff could see them. Their hands brushed on the way to the room, and it was hard to not be beside each other as they got dressed. The entire room was staring at them, but for the first time Sid didn’t care. He was so unbelievably happy.

No one talked to him until warmup, so caught up in their own lives that they didn’t seem to notice how Sid’s had changed. Although you couldn’t see a change like this from the outside. It was purely internal, a light that had been flickering now illuminating his world.

“Where were you?” Justin was frowning at him, tapping his stick against the ice impatiently. He didn’t want to be asking, he wanted to be warming up.

“Oh, Geno and I decided to go… on a date.” Sid could feel the smile blossoming on his face. “We got caught up in the moment, I guess.”

Schultzy clearly didn’t believe him, skating away with an unsatisfied look and a shrug to his teammates in the corner.

The beginning of the game was fast paced, and Sid felt like he was on the top of his game. Kristen seemed to have a bone to pick with the universe and it was propelling her game in a way he hadn’t seen in awhile, and Geno was happy to take the brunt of the Canadiens’ physical play. Their line was on fire, the whole team was on fire, and things were looking up.

0—0—0

The third red light that she witnessed almost made her cry. A couple of Penguins’ hats rained down on her, and she jumped against the boards, enveloped in her line mates’ hugs.

Carey was practically glaring at her as she skated past, and she mouthed a ‘sorry’ with a shrug toward him. As much as she respected the goaltender, this was her time to shine.

Dan patted her helmet as she sat down, making her smile harder. “’Atta girl.”

Kristen’s heart was beating out of her body. Her voice was shaky as she turned to look at Max. “How about that, fuckface?”

“Just wait until I get out there.” He laughed.

He didn’t score three goals, but he did get in a very memorable fight leaving the other player on the ice and him silencing the crowd. Kristen stood up to applaud him as he made his way back to the dressing room.

Intermission was light hearted. Kristen had missed the energy for the games she’d been gone, and it was refreshing to hear the childish jokes and banter. Marc pulled her aside before they headed back out.

“Hey, come here.” He held his arms wide, and she gratefully hugged him back. Even with the equipment between them, it still felt amazing. “You’re so beautiful out there.”

She leaned back, giving him a smile and kissing his nose. “So do you. I missed this.”

“I love you.”

“I lo—”

“Break it up, kids!” Duper came out of the room, giving them both a shoulder tap with his stick.

“Yeah, pretty sure PDA at work is sexual harassment.” Sid bounced in place by the door.

“Says Mr. Fuck In The Janitor Closet.”

“Hey! At least me and my husb—fiancé can control ourselves during a game.”

“Um, pardon?” Duper raised his eyebrows at Sid. “Your what?”

“Fiancé. You knew that already.”

Marc shook his head frantically, raising his hand. “No. You said…”

Kristen tried her best to act shocked, but a part of her had known what they’d been doing when they were gone. The way Geno had sounded on the phone, paired with his random excuse, had screamed that something was up. 

“Why are we standing here?” Cookie pushed the men out of the way of the door. “Almost time to go.”

“Sid and Geno are—”

“Not the time!” Sid’s face was as red as a tomato. “We have a game!”

Kristen glanced at Marc before he made his way to the front of the line. They didn’t need to speak to each other to know they would both be interrogating the couple after the game.

0—0—0

“No more first star, Stew. Let rest of us try.”

“You wish.”

Marc wrapped his arm around Kristen, pulling her closer to him. They were still sweaty and disgusting, and the way the fabric of his Under Armor was clinging to his arm felt strange, but he couldn’t help himself from being as close as possible. The way she’d played that night was beyond hot, and he had no problem with admitting it.

“So, Sid mentioned something earlier.”

“Don’t you dare.” Sid pointed his finger at him, frowning.

“I think we deserve to know.” Marc’s voice was a little too loud and the entire room was looking at them. “No judgements.”

“What happened?” Tanger looked up from where he was stripping off his equipment.

“Yeah, tell us!”

Geno looked confused, and Sid looked beyond embarrassed. Marc felt bad for bringing it up, but there was a large part of him that knew it would be worth it.

“It’s nothing, really.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

Sid rolled his eyes. Geno slowly raised his left hand, wiggling his fingers.

“You’re engaged. We know that.” Justin spoke up.

“Not that.” Geno was grinning from ear to ear.

The men were silent, and Marc could almost hear the gears turning in their heads.

Kristen raised her hands in the air. “Oh my God, you guys are so stupid! They got fucking married!”

There was a chorus of cuss words and shocked noises, and many half-stripped men unsure of what to do from there. Marc grabbed Sid’s arm, pulling him in for a long hug with Kristen. Geno quickly joined, followed by Max and Tanger and eventually the rest of the team, whether or not they were clothed.

“Why the fuck would you do that without us?” Max called from his place in the pile of hockey players. “Dickheads!”

“That was Max for ‘I’m happy for you guys.’”

“Oh, yes. That.”

The group broke up, going back to their routines. Marc wasn’t letting them get away with it that easily, though.

“But for real. Why didn’t you invite us?”

Sid was still blushing, and he shrugged timidly. “It was spur of the moment. We didn’t want to bug you guys.”

“Sid! We would’ve showed up no matter what.” Kristen stopped in the middle of stripping off her shirt. “You’re family. Both of you. My big, gay brothers.”

Marc caught a glimpse of Geno’s face. His heart immediately felt like it was broken into two.

Geno’s eyes were an insane mix of happiness and fear, tears falling as he blinked frantically. His hands were folded in front of him. Marc realized it was probably practice for how he was going to have to hold himself around Sid whenever he went back home.

“We love you both.” Sid, on the other hand, was beaming, and brought the couple in for another hug. “Thank you.”

Marc congratulated them again before going to his own locker. The image of Geno’s face stayed in his head until he was home with Kristen. It truly cemented how lucky he was to be in the position he was in, to never have to worry about being himself with her. To never have to worry about their relationship becoming public. To still be able to visit his family and hold his girlfriend’s hand.

The whole thing brought him close to tears, and he held her tighter than he should’ve that night.

0—0—0

“G? Everything okay?”

Geno barely raised his head toward the closed door. The bathroom floor was easier to look at.

He hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. He wanted to stay in that post-wedding bliss for as long as possible before having to accept reality. Sid was going to want to go public, Geno was going to have to tell his parents, and he would be shunned by his home. Reality was fucking brutal.

“G, I’m getting worried. Can I come in?”

Flower had noticed. Hell, most of them had probably noticed. He should’ve been bouncing up and down, kissing his fiancé silly.

Fuck. Husband.

And his stomach should not be twisting and turning at the mention of that word. He was married now, legally, and Sidney Crosby was now Sidney Crosby-Malkin.

“Sid.” His voice was uneven, scared, the quietest he’d ever heard himself be. “Sid, please.”

Sid practically kicked the door down, running to where Geno was curled up on the floor. He was aware of how silly he must’ve looked, long legs curled up awkwardly and arms wrapped around himself, but Sid still didn’t laugh at him.

“Oh, Geno. Darling…” His lips were all over Geno’s face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

It was nice to not have to explain his feelings to someone, or even speak at all. Sometimes he just wanted to sit on a floor and watch his hands shake from frustration.

“It was my fault. I should’ve been more careful with what I was saying. Fuck, I’m such an idiot—”

“Sid.”

The other man stared at him, shocked by the edge that was in his voice.

“Stop. Not idiot, don’t have to beat yourself up.”

“But it’s true. It’s my fault.” Sid was crying. Only he could still look beautiful when tears were streaming down his face. “If I hadn’t fucked it up… you would be happy right now.”

“Sid.” He couldn’t stand it anymore. He pulled Sid off him, holding him by the shoulders and forcing him to look into Geno’s eyes. “I’m tell you stop. You love of my life, bring light to me. Push me so hard. Is hard now, but… is worth it.”

He was frustrated at his lack of words. Everything he was thinking would be lost in translation, and Sidney fucking Crosby deserved the best.

“I love you, G. But I need to know if you’re ready for this or not.” Sid wiped his eyes carefully. “I can’t be with you if you’re unhappy.”

“Scared.” It was all he muster, but Sid nodded in understanding.

“And you’re allowed to be. This isn’t really the ideal situation. But I’m here for you, no matter what happens. God, you’re my fucking husband! We’re married! I still can’t believe it.” He smiled, causing a few more tears to fall. “I can’t wait to start a family with you, to retire with you and watch all the rookies go through what we did. To proudly hold your hand in public, to look into a camera and say that you’re all mine. But, there’s no rush. We have forever.”

He was right. He was always right.

“Fuck what everyone else has to say about this. Everyone that matters supports us. And like I said, we have each other no matter what.”

Geno wrapped himself around Sid, a suddenly positive outlook on his life filling his brain.

“I tell you when I ready. Love you so much. Husband.”

0—0—0

Kristen held the magazine in her hands, her eyes locked on the picture of her celebrating her first NHL goal and the headline of her essay. It was unbelievable.

“Everyone shut up! There’s a published author in our midst!” Max called to the group, pulling Kristen toward him.

She hadn’t even noticed how loud the room was, her brain purely focused on the way her name looked in writing. It was proof that people loved her.

“So, we can’t talk because she wrote something?” Tanger chuckled at Max’s shocked expression. “I’m joking. Happy for you.”

The rest of the group congratulated her before digging into their dinners. Marc had insisted on hosting a dinner for her, even though it really wasn’t a big deal. She couldn’t see why anyone else would care about her writing something, but it still meant a lot to have her brothers around her that night.

Sid and Geno were holding hands above the table, and Tanger had brought Catherine. It was clear that Max felt a little left out, so Marc wrapped his arm around his chair.

“So, are you guys ready for the playoffs?” Catherine leaned back in her chair, wine glass perched precariously in her fingertips. “It’s coming up fast.”

Sid was completely focused on his plate, not in the mood to discuss hockey. Geno seemed enamoured with Kristen’s fake flower centerpiece.

“We’re just going to keep doing what we need to do. You know, go day-by-day.” Kristen had rehearsed the line for upcoming intermission interviews, but it seemed like the right time to throw it out. “There’s no point in worrying about things that haven’t happened yet.”

Catherine nodded slowly, looking to Tanger for a translation.

“We’ll get Sid and G the honeymoon they deserve. In bed with the Stanley Cup.” Max winked at his friends.

Geno chuckled behind his wine glass. Kristen was suddenly reminded of her late night discussion with him about fetishes (how they’d gotten on that topic, she’d never remember), and almost choked on her food.

The conversation continued on that note, mostly Max trying to make Sid blush, and Kristen tried her best to clear the table without getting knocked out by his flailing hands. As she was loading the dishwasher, she was interrupted by the click-clack of heels.

“Can we talk?”

Kristen tried to hide her frown as she looked up at Catherine. Never once had the two had an intimate conversation, or felt like they needed to, and it seemed especially weird given how serious the other woman’s face looked.

“Yeah. For sure.” She stood up, knocking the dishwasher closed with her foot. “What’s up?”

“I’m, um… not too sure how to bring this up.”

“It’s okay. You can say it.” Kristen was sure it was going to be something she didn’t want to hear, something about her being around Tanger so much or that she was just a slut.

“Please know that Kris told me because he trusts me, which means you can trust me, too.”

Her hands felt shaky, and she hid them behind her back awkwardly.

“Your, um, situation came up the other night. That you can’t have kids.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

Catherine put her hand on Kristen’s arm gently, a look of true kindness on her face for the first time. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. If you need someone to talk to, someone to help you if you decide to start a family, anything. That goes for the other ladies, too.”

“Really?”

“Of course! You don’t only have brothers. There’s a sisterhood, too.” Catherine smiled. “I can’t imagine how hard that news would be to hear.”

“It wasn’t the best.” She chuckled. “But, really. Thank you.”

Suddenly, Catherine pulled her in for a hug. Her arms were tight around her, head resting on her shoulder. It probably looked funny given their height difference, but the thought behind it meant more to Kristen than she could ever say.

“You’re very strong. And talented. And you deserve to be here. I’m happy Kris has someone like you in his life.”

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

The unmistakeable giggles of Marc and Max came from beside them. Catherine pulled away quickly, flattening her dress and rolling her eyes at them. However, the look she gave Kristen told her that the offer for a friend would always stand.

0—0—0

“So, what was all that about? You and Catherine?”

Max had that shit eating grin on his face, and Marc rolled his eyes. The sounds of Friends filled in the silence while Kristen decided what she was going to say.

“It did look like a nice moment.” Marc spoke up first, smiling at her. “Even when we interrupted it.”

“You know what? It actually was. The woman does have a soul.” Kristen shoved her mouth full of popcorn to avoid more questioning. “Kris told her about our… problem. My problem. She wanted to let me know that her and the other ladies are there for me.”

Marc’s body tensed up. The couple had been avoiding the topic of Kristen’s fertility since they’d found out, mostly because it wasn’t yet an issue, but he knew there was a part of both of them that wanted to forget it was a problem in the first place. Most of the team were already aware of it, but he wasn’t sure he was happy about more people finding out, especially without Kristen’s approval.

Max nodded silently, but Marc could tell there was something he wanted to say.

_“Just say it.”_

_“What do you mean?”_ Max frowned, yet it was impossible for him to keep his mouth shut. Marc knew him too well. “I mean, I wanted to ask you guys about that. If it’s okay.”

“Honestly, we’ve barely talked about it ourselves.” Kristen turned to Marc. Her voice was raw as she continued. “Why haven’t we talked about this?”

He felt like he was on the spot, his two closest companions looking at him with a hint of frustration in their eyes. It was for different reasons, Max was probably mad that Marc wasn’t being as open of a book that he wanted him to be, and Kristen probably thought he wasn’t being the star boyfriend he should be. But it was hard for him, too. He had a right to want to avoid the subject.

“We haven’t needed to. I thought you’d want to focus on playing. Anyway, Max had a question.”

Kristen rolled her eyes, a hint of a smile on her face. “Max, our dear therapist.”

“Well, you want kids, right?”

“Maybe.”

“Have you thought about other options? Like, a surrogate?” He toyed with his cellphone, spinning it around by its edge on the coffee table. “You have the money.”

Kristen shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Maybe. I just think of those people who decide to keep the baby the minute it’s coming out of their vagina. I’m not ready for that kind of heartbreak.”

The mood in the room lightened drastically, and Max and Kristen started discussing the option of stealing babies from the hospital. Marc simply leaned back on the couch, enjoying the show. He let his mind wander for a bit; the image of Uncle Max teaching their kids how to get away with everything as long as they had that trademark smirk, Kristen and him bringing them to hockey games and pointing out all the rookies-turned-veterans they’d played with before, all the birthdays and Christmases and everything in between. And sure, he didn’t want it right away, but fuck he wanted it one day.

“What if we adopted?” He didn’t even think about the words, too excited as he looked at Kristen. “For real.”

She looked surprised at his outburst, but it quickly turned to an ecstatic smile. “Yeah. Yeah, we should do that.” She gripped his hand tightly, and he knew it was serious.

“Look at me, witnessing all the good moments.” Max held his hand to his chest. “I feel honoured.”

“It’s because you’re always fucking here.”

Max laughed hard, pretending to flip his hair as he went to grab them some more drinks.

“I mean it.” Kristen whispered as soon as he’d left the room. “Really.”

Marc knew the grin on his face probably looked stupid, but he couldn’t help it. “So do I, _petit soleil.”_

0—0—0

“Ana-fucking-heim!” Kristen danced into the eating area, grabbing a ginger ale on the way to a chair. She sat across from Cooke and Schultzy.

“Hey, you actually know the schedule? Proud of you.” Matt dodged a flicked lettuce leaf from Justin. “Am I gonna see you out there tonight?”

“Duh.” Kristen frowned.

“No, I mean…” He held his hands up in the universal sign for fighting, and she laughed.

“I’ve been trying to avoid that. I can only lose so many fights.”

“You did good against me, kid. We already have the playoff spot, should go for it.”

“Yeah, and hurt herself.” Justin rolled his eyes as he ate more of his salad. “Save that for game seven.”

Surprisingly, Kristen found herself in a moral dilemma. She had never had a premeditated fight, or even thought about doing so, and Dan would not be happy for the exact reasons Schultzy had said. Everyone took her fighting as trying to prove something, but there was a part of her that did enjoy it.

“Listen, do what you want.” Matt pulled her out of her own head as he pushed his stool back. “Happy you’re back, though.” He patted her head and strolled away.

Kristen immediately turned to Justin, who was still so obsessed with his salad that he didn’t notice her glance right away. “Do you think I should?”

“Should what?”

She giggled as some food came out of his mouth, patting his head and standing up. “At least you’re pretty.”

The dilemma followed her out into warmups, and her shots on net seemed like they were constantly ricocheting off posts. Marc was playing backup that night, and she already missed knowing he would be behind her.

The first period was surprisingly intense; the Ducks were still fighting for a playoff spot, and had no problems knocking the Penguins off their feet any chance they got. Kristen seemed to be taking the most of it. Her size was more of a disadvantage that night, and she spent most of her shifts on the ice instead of making plays.

It remained a tied score coming in to the middle of the second period, and she was beyond grateful for Dan calling a time out.

“How’s it going?” Marc leaned forward in his seat. Kristen could only shrug, finding it hard to catch her breath.

“They’re really beating you up out there, eh?” Matt skated up to her, patting her ass before turning to listen to Dan. Marc gave him a dirty look, but said nothing.

She wanted to fight. They needed to know that she could stick up for herself; even though her playing was a form of revenge, it wasn’t doing the job. People probably thought she’d gone soft since the Xavier fiasco, and honestly, it was fun for her to get out there and beat someone up. Her hands would be fine.

Play started up again, and Kristen sat on the bench, thinking. None of the players had specifically been targeting her, it seemed that everyone was just going for it. She decided that she would do the same.

Skating over to the faceoff, she tapped sticks with her opponent. He looked over at her, raising his eyebrows.

“You wanna go?”

He chuckled. “Actually?”

Kristen simply nodded. The other player shrugged, nodding hesitantly and leaning over as the ref dropped the puck. They dropped their gloves in sync and the whistle was blown.

He grabbed her jersey, and Kristen suddenly realized how tall he actually was. It would be insanely hard to throw any punches, the best thing she could do was dodge until he backed down.

He threw the first punch, hitting her helmet hard and immediately tugging at the strap. She shook her head and gripped the neckline of his jersey tightly, holding herself up against an onslaught of hits to her face. Her nose definitely felt broken. There was blood dripping down her face, probably from her forehead, and Kristen was starting to regret her decision until she got exactly what she’d wanted.

As she’d assumed, he began to back down, allowing her to propel all of her weight through her arm and into his face. The other player was caught off guard, stumbling slightly, and she swung again with more force. The two toppled over.

“Good fight.” There was a slight laugh in his voice, and Kristen smiled back as she was pulled off him and taken to the box.

Matt raised his arms from the bench, and she giggled as he mouthed ‘good job.’ Marc was grinning from ear to ear, and even the other bench seemed slightly impressed.

She looked away. She had to stop smiling, her face was killing.

0—0—0

_“Holy fucking shit.”_ Max threw his jersey into the laundry basket frantically, as if he had somewhere to be. It was purely excitement, but he had mentioned to Marc that he had a Tinder date that night. As close to a date that it could be, given it would be after midnight.

Kristen sauntered into the room, her face a constellation of stitches and small areas of dried blood. Marc held his hand out as she passed by, and she gripped it tightly before starting to strip.

“Our knight in shining armour.” Justin grinned at her, and Geno made a noise of appreciation for his comment.

“What can I say? I’m good at getting beat up.”

“Keep hand safe. Need first star in playoffs.” Geno rolled his eyes as she pretended to square up with him. “Not leave me with Sid.”

“Excuse me?” Sid laughed.

“I’m mean, please leave me with Sid.” He winked.

The rest of their time was spent joking around. Marc, of course, gravitated toward Max quickly.

“Ready for your date?”

Max nodded, hyper focused on doing up his bow tie.

_“Let me guess, tall and blonde?”_

_“Short and brunette. No luck with the blondes.”_

_“Oh, look at you, expanding your horizons.”_ Marc chuckled.

Max said nothing more and left quickly without a word. Marc tried to soak up the energy in the room. They were at an interesting point, before the playoff stress had fully hit everyone and they all felt like they could celebrate. Once April hit, it was all-hands-on-deck, and the joking would diminish quickly.

He was going to try his best to stay positive no matter what happened, though. For himself, for Kristen, for all his brothers. It was what he was good at.

0—0—0

Max shuffled into the booth uncomfortably, peeking at his watch. The club was incredibly loud, he could feel the music in his chest even at his private box, and he was starting to worry that it was too loud.

“Would you like anything to drink?”

He looked up at the waiter. They had an early start the next morning, and Dan had already given the team multiple lectures about showing up hungover. Before he could get lost in a moral conundrum, he nodded, pointing to a random cocktail.

He had already had multiple shots by the time two in the morning rolled around, and he was contemplating heading home, when he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Max?”

“Yea—oh! Hey.” He was slurring slightly, and he wasn’t sure if his blush was from embarrassment or the drinks.

“Sorry I’m late. I got caught up at work, ended up watching the game instead of doing some spreadsheets.”

“No, no. It’s totally okay!” Max quickly got up, pulling out the chair for his date. “I hope you liked what you saw.”

“Of course, I did. You looked great.”

“Why, _merci.”_ Max sat down, holding his hand out. The man across from him took it gratefully.


	28. Fly at Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life is kicking my ass right now, sorry about the wait!  
> the upcoming chapters will hopefully be longer, which means a bit more of a wait, but hopefully it will be worth it!

“Want me to sit out?”

“Just for tonight. Give your knee some more time to heal before April, and you get to spend some quality time with Mario.” 

Dan was looking at him as if it was a blessing to sit out that night. Geno shook his head.

“No. Knee is normal, is fine.”

“G, it’s okay.” Sid put his hand on his thigh. “We’ll be okay for one night.”

“I’m get bored last time.” He knew his voice sounded whiny, but he didn’t care. He hated watching and not being able to do anything. Even though Duper would be there to entertain him, it would still be a boring night.

Sitting up in the box, barely understanding what Duper and Mario were talking about, watching his husband get targeted by multiple Blue Jackets, Geno felt like he was going to have a fit. The only thing he wanted was to be with his team.

“Hey, Geno. Are you guys going to have another wedding?”

The question made his head whip around to glare at Duper, and he immediately saw the shock on Mario’s face. They had yet to tell him.

“Um, maybe.” He was blushing like crazy, only saved by Stew scoring and the roar of the crowd. He could tell Mario was eyeing him but chose to over-celebrate in hopes it would get him off the hook.

Of course, it didn’t.

As soon as the crowd had quieted down, Mario tapped his arm. “Another wedding? What happened to the first one?”

“Was surprise. I’m not know was going to happen.”

Duper was cringing from his place in between them.

“And you didn’t invite me?”

“They didn’t invite any of us, if that makes you feel better.”

“I’m say, was surprise.” Geno ran his hand through his hair. “Might have other one in summer.”

Mario shrugged. There was a smile on his face. “Well, I hope you do. I’ll have to formally congratulate both of you.”

Even though he was relieved about telling Mario, there was a large part of him that was stressed out about what ‘formally congratulate’ was supposed to mean.

0—0—0

“Obviously fighting doesn’t take anything out of you.” Sid patted Kristen’s helmet happily.

She didn’t want to toot her own horn, but she thought she was on fire. It felt like the Blue Jackets had given up. Maybe that was how Sid always felt.

“I try my best.”

“It’s working, kid. Someone’s been watching you all night.” Tanner leaned over to her, nodding toward where Marc was standing. He waved from the net.

“I would hope so.” Kristen joked, but it still meant a lot that he still found watching her entertaining. She still got caught up in watching him play, too.

Her next couple of shifts were mostly uneventful, save for a few hits that left her sitting on the ice swearing at the refs. They already had a healthy lead; by the third period the team was just trying to keep it that way.

By the time Marc and Kristen got home, her body felt like it was on fire. New bruises were blossoming along her arms and legs, and she could barely lift her arms. She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, wincing after having to take her shirt off.

“Jesus.”

Marc stood in the doorway, cringing as he looked at her.

“A little less than pretty.” Kristen joked. Paired with the way her face looked from Anaheim’s game, she felt like Frankenstein’s monster.

He moved behind her, lightly running his fingers down her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“Why? It’s my job.”

“You don’t have to do that, you know. Fight, I mean,” he clarified as she frowned. “Your game is insane right now. We have Cookie for the rough stuff.”

Kristen sighed. She had heard variations of that sentence too many times that night. “Maybe I like it. I don’t just want to be here for my playing, or just for my fighting. I want to be dynamic, you know?”

“You are, _petit soleil._ Always will be. I just…” He looked away, hands moving to rub her shoulders as he thought. “I don’t like seeing you get hurt.”

“Oh, Marc.” Kristen turned to face him. She pressed her nose against his, making him smile. “Thank you. But trust me, I know my limits. I’m just having fun, same as you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Okay.” He rolled his eyes. _“Femme folle.”_

“Come on. I want a bath.”

0—0—0

“Did you watch the game?”

“Of course. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

Max cursed himself for the giant smile on his face. He hadn’t planned on inviting Liam over, or even talking to the previous night’s date at all, but he’d had so much fun with him. There was nothing for him to stress out over. Maybe he’d just needed a friend. A friend that let him suck his dick. That kind of thing happened, right?

Liam was stroking his thigh in a way that made his chest feel tight. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” Max tried to give him a smirk, but it came out more as a grimace. “Just thinking about tomorrow. Early morning.”

Liam nodded, continuing to do that thing with his fingers that had made Max drag him home before. They were in dangerous territory. “You sure that’s all you’re thinking about?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” He pulled away from Max, folding his hands in his lap and giving him a serious look. “You said I was your first time with a guy. I’m just wondering if maybe… it’s not working for you?”

“Oh, no!” Max cringed at how loud his voice sounded. He had never been so quick to defend himself. “It’s working!”

“So, what’s up?”

He sighed. “Just, um, that’s the problem. That it’s working, I mean.”

He couldn’t have imagined how much a sentence could ruin a sexy night. The waterworks happened almost immediately, followed by his life story that Liam definitely hadn’t asked for. In the other man’s defence, he took it like a champ, holding the blubbering mess that was his date for hours before finally giving in. His departure was quick, and Max was suddenly aware that they probably wouldn’t be speaking to each other for the rest of their lives.

The urge to call Marc was strong, but he knew it would be too much to explain in a night. His roommate, however, would understand more than anyone.

“Max? Everything okay?”

“No.” He put his phone on speaker, rolling onto his side and cuddling a pillow. “I’m sorry, is it a bad time?”

“No, of course not. Do you want me to put Marc on?”

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you, if that’s okay.”

The line went silent for a second, the sounds of Kristen explaining something to Marc filling in the gap before he heard a door shut. “Okay, tell me.”

“I had sex with a guy.” He was shocked at how quickly he’d blurted it out, as if that was a common occurrence in the Talbot household.

“Max—”

“And it was fun. I enjoyed myself. And I somehow managed to scare him away, too.”

Kristen let out a long sigh. “Okay. Okay, back up for a second. When did this happen? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“The other night. That was the date I went on.” Max closed his eyes, trying not to sound unsure. “I didn’t think there was anything to tell before now.”

“So, what does this mean to you?”

The question caught him off guard. What did it mean? He wasn’t gay, he enjoyed being with women too much. And he didn’t exactly consider what he had done something a straight guy would’ve done. But that was the reason he’d called Kristen specifically.

“When did you know you were bi?”

“Um…” It was obvious she was still surprised about the whole topic, but she was thankfully covering it well. “I always knew. Honestly, it was more of a surprise that I wasn’t a lesbian. But it’s not like that for everyone. Some people figure these things out when they’re three, some when they’re sixty, and it’s still valid and totally normal. Sometimes, people just experiment.”

“I don’t think it was an experiment.” He knew it wasn’t. “I’ve never even thought about these things before. I didn’t think I’d have to.”

“I mean, you don’t have to think about it if you don’t want to.”

He paused, opening his eyes and staring at the phone as if it would stare back. “Really?”

“If you’re comfortable with what happened, yeah. You had a good night with another human being, and that’s all that matters.”

The tightness in his chest disappeared.

“We all love you, Max. You can be yourself around us, no matter what that means.”

“I love you, too.”

“Do you want to talk to Marc now?”

Sighing, he rolled onto his back. That was where the real therapy would come into play.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

0—0—0

Kristen’s phone went off loudly in her ear, practically launching her out of bed. Marc rolled over, groaning.

“It’s four in the morning.”

Kevin’s contact photo lit up the screen. She sighed. It had been another one of those dramatic nights, apparently.

“It’s Juice.”

“Call him back tomorrow. _Aucune raison d'appeler à quatre heures du matin.”_

Kristen rolled her eyes, grabbing her phone and going to the living room. “Kevin.”

“I want to fucking die.”

Apparently, it was also the night of getting straight to the point.

“I fucking hate living here. I fucking hate—s’cuse me—playing for this fucking team.” His words were slurred, and a pumping bass in the background made Kristen cringe.

“Kevin. Why’d you call me?”

“I’m so lonely, you know? Fuck, where the fuck did that fuckhead go, I—”

“Kevin.” It was obvious he had no idea who he’d called, and that that didn’t matter to him in the slightest. “Don’t you have a game tomorrow? Why are you out?”

“I’m celebrating my impending divorce.”

“What the fuck do you mean?” There was a loud crash on the other end, followed by practically maniacal laughter. “Kevin? Juice?”

Marc walked into the hallway, wrapped in Kristen’s faux fur blanket. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s drunk off his ass. I don’t think he even knows he phoned me.” She wanted to laugh, but there was a large part of her that was worried. Their Vancouver crew had always looked out for each other, but half of them were either gone or dead. “I think he’s alone. Kevin? Are you okay?”

“Why is he drunk calling you instead of his wife?”

Kristen wasn’t in the mood for the jealous boyfriend lecture, so she turned away. “I need you to call a taxi and go home. We can talk more tomorrow, okay?”

There was a groan on the other end that she took as a confirmation, followed by the beeping of a call hung up.

“You’re turning that off now, right?”

“Yes, go back to bed. I’ll be there in a sec.” She smiled at Marc, nodding toward the balcony.

Out of all the times to try and quit smoking, that month wasn’t one of them.

0—0—0

Tanner was holding his breath, and he had no idea why.

The call he’d received the night before from Kevin had torn his heart apart, mostly because he couldn’t be there for him, but the news that his marriage wasn’t working out the way he’d wanted it to be was too intense for Tanner to think about.

The rest of the team was slowly trickling onto the plane. It was too early for excitement, and most of them silently sipped their coffees as they made their way to their seats. Kristen stumbled on, kissing Marc’s cheek before she sat down in her usual spot. Tanner’s leg bounced, anxious to talk to her.

Eventually, he got up. Geno practically ran into him as he went to sit down beside her.

“Is not your seat.”

“I just need to talk to Kristen quickly.”

Geno shook his head. “Is my seat. Routine.”

Kristen laughed. “G, it’s okay. It’ll be quick.”

“Won’t be,” he muttered, holding his hand out for Tanner to sit.

“Thanks.”

Kristen rolled her eyes. Tanner was still hesitant when he sat down, picking at his thumbnails.

“Let me guess. He called you, too?”

He nodded. “I wish I was there. He’s so alone.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know, but…” His sigh was shaky. “I’m getting Xavier flashbacks, you know? He called me saying almost exactly the same thing.” Saying his name felt weird, and he cringed when he saw the look on Kristen’s face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s okay.” She put her hand on his. “Listen, if he wants to go down that road, then let him. He’s a grown man, he needs to learn how to fend for himself sometimes.”

“God, some of the shit he said…” Tanner shook his head. Out of everyone, she understood the most. “You know, I thought coming here was going to get rid of all that shit. I’d get to play with the best, have fun. Instead, I’ve thought more about Vancouver than when I was there.”

“I get that.”

“And there’s so much shit I’m not supposed to tell anyone now—”

Kristen raised her eyebrows. “Like what?”

He couldn’t help but laugh at the way she was looking at him, as if he was holding a bomb. “Most of it you know already."

“Well, let me fact check.”

Tanner hesitated. The plane felt insanely quiet. “Just,” he lowered his voice, “about you guys. Everything that happened.”

Kristen stared at him, and he could practically feel her shoulders tensing up.

“I won’t tell anyone.” He looked toward the front of the plane where Marc was sitting. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

She looked relieved and sighed. “Thanks. I just don’t get why he called me. I know we used to be close, but… he has a family. People to talk to that actually live there.” She paused and lowered her own voice to match his. “And his comment at the funeral? What was that?”

Tanner almost burst out laughing. The fact that someone so smart, so educated on absolutely everything that could happen to a person, had no idea what was going on was hilarious. He almost felt bad for her.

“Don’t you get it? He’s in love with you. He always has been.”

0—0—0

Sid couldn’t focus on their game of Call of Duty, his eyes locked on the view out the window. Marc glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Something on my face?”

Sid shook his head quickly, letting out a short laugh. “Sorry. Head’s somewhere else.” He ran his hands down his face. “I’m probably just tired.”

“I know that’s not it.” Marc put down his game.

As usual, Flower was right, but the knowledge of how close Geno was sitting made him nervous. Not that G was a problem, he never was, but he could easily take what Sid was going to say the wrong way.

He toyed with his ring instead of speaking. Marc continued to watch him until it became slightly uncomfortable, turning back to his game without a word.

“I want to tell people. Now.”

Sighing, he turned off his game again. “You had to wait until I started again?”

“I’m serious.”

“That needs to stop.” Marc shook his head. “He told you he’d let you know when it was time. It’s not time yet. And you need to accept that.”

Sid’s mouth hung open, his heart beating fast. He hadn’t sounded angry, just a little annoyed, but it was incredibly rare to hear Flower speak that way. He felt embarrassed, dropping his head.

“I’m not trying to be harsh with you, but if I’ve learned anything in this relationship, it’s that things aren’t going to go your way. Sometimes that’s for the better. If one of you isn’t ready for something, it’s not going to work.”

Sid nodded. There was a part of him that had known that already, but it helped to hear someone else say it. His obsession with things always going his way, always having control over what was going on in his life, was starting to get the best of him.

“The dude loves you, Sid. You can see it on his face every second of the day. Trust him.”

“You’re right.”

Marc held his hand out, and Sid took it gratefully, letting him squeeze his hand before going back to his game.

“Thanks, Flower.”

_“De rien, perdant.”_

0—0—0

Geno raised his eyebrows at Kristen. “He love you?”

“You don’t have to announce it to the world.” Kristen smacked his arm, leaning against the boards in defeat. “I just… yeah, I guess he does. In a different way than I thought he did.”

“And you?”

“I don’t love him like that, G. You know that.”

He shrugged, absentmindedly shooting a puck toward the empty net. They’d decided to stay late after practice, since Marc and Sid were going out for lunch. Unsure of who to talk to about the whole thing, she’d grabbed his arm and forced him to listen to her rant.

“I guess it should’ve been obvious to me. He’s hinted at it before.”

“Really?” Geno started to look entertained. “I’m not tell anyone.”

She thought for a moment if she could truly trust him with some more of her crazy Vancouver stories, given how many things she’d dumped it on him before. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning. Geno thrived on gossip.

“Just… some things happened when I first got there. I told him I wasn’t into it, because I wasn’t. That’s it.” That definitely wasn’t it. “I just don’t know what to do.”

“Why you have do anything?” He shrugged. “Is not here.”

Kristen frowned. She was used to worrying about things to the point of feeling sick that she had forgotten how easy it was to just let things go.

“Is like me and Tyler. I’m worry, stress so much about what he do, but he do nothing. Only see each other couple times a year, smile and nod. You do same.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Is okay. Not see anymore this season.”

“Well, we have the playoffs.” Somehow, the Canucks had made it by the skin on their backs. “Which is almost worse.”

“So negative. They not make it far anyway.”

0—0—0

The loss in San Jose annoyed Marc more than anything. They weren’t fighting for a spot anymore, but it would be nice to go into the playoffs with a win streak.

The only thing that made him feel better when they got home was the fact that his head was between Kristen’s thighs, and she was pulling his hair in that fucking amazing way she did when she was close. He was in his element; the loss was the last thing on his mind at that point.

Right as he felt her legs tense up around him, her phone rang.

“Fuck.” She sighed, starting to push him away from her.

“No. I can keep going.”

“Marc.”

He raised his finger to his lips, shaking his head as she moved away from him. “No, it’s fine. Just leave it.”

“They’re gonna keep fucking calling me.” Kristen groaned as she looked at the name on the screen. “I need to take this.”

She left him laying in bed, flipping through channels mindlessly. He hadn’t gotten a chance to see who’d called her, but he had a couple of ideas.

Of course, he had noticed the conversation she and Tanner had had on the plane. He wasn’t the type of guy to get jealous, there was no time to be when Kristen was surrounded by men constantly, but the way Tanner had been looking at her… paired with his constant questions about her… It seemed pretty obvious to him.

Kristen was gone for awhile. At one point he heard the balcony door slam shut, which meant the conversation was more serious than she’d thought.

Bored, he pulled out his phone.

**What do you know about tanner and Kristen?**

Max was always on his phone, so his response was quick.

**They r friends. Both played in van. Same as u, y**   
**I think he just phoned her. Wondering what its about**   
**Lies. Hes with us**

Marc frowned. Any sort of possessive anger he’d felt flew out the window, replaced with the worry that something truly serious had happened.

**Come 2 bar when ur done ;)**

Rolling his eyes, he set his phone down. The last thing he wanted in that moment was to go socialize with his teammates.

0—0—0

“You need to stop phoning me and talk to your wife.”

“She’ll be my ex-wife soon, anyway.”

Kristen took a longer drag of her cigarette. The conversation had been going on for too long, and for the first time in her life, she was annoyed by Kevin. “She doesn’t even know you want a divorce yet.”

“Well, she’ll find out eventually.”

“Kevin.” She ashed her cigarette violently. “It kills me to say this, but… you’re starting to sound a whole lot like someone we used to know.”

The other end was silent for awhile, to the point where she had to check and make sure he hadn’t hung up on her. Eventually, there was a deep breath.

“Glasser told you, didn’t he?”

“What do you mean?” She thanked God that he wasn’t there in person, because she was sure the look on her face would give her away. “Told me what?”

“You know. You’re a bad liar.” Kevin chuckled, but she knew there was no humour there.

“What do you want me to say?” There were tears of frustration falling down her face. “Kevin, what am I supposed to do about that? You’re one of my best friends. No matter what I do everything’s going to be different.”

“So, you’re totally happy with him? Don’t pretend you didn’t tell me about that joke of an engagement.”

Kristen inhaled sharply. It was like the words took her breath away, the way he’d said it so matter-of-factly, as if her and Marc hadn’t easily made things work. As if there was something for her to doubt. And she didn’t, she never would again, but she’d be lying if she said that hearing those words from one of her only support systems didn’t break her heart.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t me—”

“Fuck you, Kevin.” She ran her hand through her hair, shaking her head. “Just… fuck you.”

“I can’t help that I love you.” His voice was anxious, he was begging for an answer that she couldn’t give him, and he knew it. “Please. I’m sorry. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

“Go home and talk to your fucking wife. Don’t talk to me until you’ve got yourself figured out.”

She hung up, basically punching a hole through her phone in anger. Jumping off the balcony seemed like the best option at that point, but she forced herself to go back inside and strip off her layers of clothes. She stood in the doorway of the bedroom, catching Marc’s eye immediately.

“What are you—”

“Can we try this again? Harder?”

She had never seen him so eager to do anything.

0—0—0

Tanger dodged a shot from Kristen, swearing loudly. “Watch it!”

She completely ignored him, firing another shot on net even harder than the last. Murray even flinched as it hit his chest.

“What’s her problem?” Kris skated over to the bench, dumping water on his head. Marc stayed quiet.

“I have no idea.” Sid decided to answer for him. Geno had told him as soon as he’d found out, but it was better to keep some things a secret. Especially for Kristen, whose every life decision was consistently broadcast to the world. “Probably anxious.”

Marc glanced over at him gratefully, and Sid nodded. Kris obviously didn’t care very much, as he started talking about his latest date with Catherine. Sid cringed at some of the details, for the first time in his life a little too gay to listen to something a teammate was saying.

Geno approached him after practice, eyeing him in a way that suggested he wanted a private conversation. They moved to the gym. Sid sat on the bike, barely moving his legs as he motioned for Geno to talk.

“I’m want to ask something last night. Not get chance.”

“Go for it.”

He took a deep breath, bringing the neck of his hoodie up over his mouth. Sid waited patiently before he spoke again.

“Ready.”

“What?”

“I’m say I tell you when ready.”

Suddenly, Sid felt insanely lightheaded, clutching onto the handles of the bike for dear life.

“I mean, tell parents. Go from there.”

Sid copied Geno’s deep breath. He got off the bike. “Are you sure?”

Geno nodded.

“Oh, my God. G.”

He raised a finger before Sid could embrace him. “Just tell parents.”

“Still! Wow.” Sid pulled him in, resting his head on his chest. Geno’s heart was beating fast, almost as fast as his. “Thank you.”

“Is no reason to thank.”

Sid shook his head. “Yes. Yes, it is.”

0—0—0

Max had never expected to see his phone ring. Well, from anyone other than his teammates. They were all with him at the bar, so he knew before he even checked that there was only one other person it could be.

“Liam?”

Kristen looked up from her ginger ale, raising her eyebrows and mouthing _‘is that him?’_ Max nodded, lifting his hand to shush her.

“Hey, Max.”

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to see you, if that’s okay. Maybe talk about some things.”

Max checked his watch. It was pretty late, late enough that he actually had to think about if he should go or not. They had an early flight to Carolina, an important game marking the middle of March, and he certainly could not be up until their flight had to leave.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to. I get it.”

“No, um…”

Kristen was nodding her head, somehow knowing exactly what was going on.

“Yeah, I can meet you.”

“Awesome.” Liam laughed. “I was so nervous you’d say no.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, I’ll come over.”

“Okay, great. See you then.”

Max set his phone down. His stomach was twisting and turning, anxious to get the meeting over with. He quickly said goodbye to his friends, calling a cab to Liam’s house.

He should’ve felt excited, mostly at the chance to finally sleep with someone again, but he looked at the window and immediately wanted to jump out of it.

Liam answered the door right away, ushering him in quickly.

“I just want—”

Suddenly, the other man was all over him, pushing him up against the door and kissing down his neck. All hesitations left Max’s mind, replaced purely by the need to feel what he had felt before. To have someone who knew his body so well all over him.

He laid on the bed afterward, in pure bliss. Liam’s head was on his chest. If he closed his eyes, it almost felt like they were supposed to be like that forever, two people incredibly in love. But he knew it was just that post-sex glow.

In reality, if he really thought about it, he felt nothing. A little less lonely, sure, but not what he should’ve been feeling.

“That was amazing.” Liam looked up at him, grinning. “You’re amazing. I missed you so much.”

Max grunted in response. He caught himself quickly after Liam sat up. “I mean, yeah. It was really good.”

Liam somehow frowned even more, getting out of the bed and pulling on a robe aggressively. “I can’t believe this.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You made me think this was what you wanted. God, I can’t believe this.”

Max held his hands up in mock surrender, bringing the sheets with him as he stood up. “You said you wanted to talk to me, not fuck. I’m sorry that I went along with it.”

Liam frowned at him. “You’re not even gay, Max. And I don’t want to be some weird experiment for you. I actually wanted to be your friend, hopefully more.”

“No, I’m not gay. I’m bisexual.”

“But you didn’t even enjoy this!”

“I didn’t enjoy this because this,” he waved his finger between them, “isn’t what I’m looking for. That doesn’t make me any less what I am. And if you can’t see that, then I don’t want to even be your friend.”

Any sort of bliss was gone, replaced with complete anger as he got dressed and started walking home. His shirt wasn’t buttoned properly, coat left inside out from how much of a hurry he’d been in. The snow was starting to melt, slush that made its way into his shoes and making his feet sting from the cold night air.

His life was a bad romantic comedy. He was just waiting for the romance part.


	29. update

so, as you guys may have noticed, i haven't updated this story in a loooooong time. a lot of things came up, but i mostly lost motivation based off a realization i had about my gender identity. it felt hard to write from the perspective of a character i had created to mirror my own life when i was lying to myself about something so important to my own identity.

on a more positive note, i have come to terms with who i am and am excited to continue writing this story in a new way. the rewrite will no longer include a female lead but will still be a similar storyline to what i've done so far. i will keep this version up as i know there are a few people that really enjoyed it.

i want to thank everyone that followed this story from the beginning. it always made me happy to see comments and support, and i'm hoping that the rewrite will still strike a chord with someone out there! be on the lookout for the first chapter of petit soleil II (the rewrite)!

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic started off as something to kill time while I was procrastinating writing some very important essays, and has since turned into a year-long commitment. I'd like to think my writing has gotten better since this chapter, but I guess we'll see. Also, my obsession with Kristen Stewart seems to have bled into my love for hockey.  
> Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys this hockey soap opera, I know I've had a lot of fun writing it.


End file.
